“Open your eyes, Sanha! Open them!”
Sanha reluctantly obeyed, opening his eyes and letting the horror back in.
Paine had retrieved Samantha’s head and held it by the hair. Blood was jetting down from the clean cut at the middle of her throat. Her eyes were still twitching as Paine brought it to Sanha and displayed it for Aldous to see. He dropped her head, then bent low until his face was just inches from Sanha, who squirmed in terror. “That was for you, Professor Gibson, you piece of filth,” he said, hatred dripping from his lips. “Come get me, you coward. I dare you.” Then he stood to his feet, took his cigar from his front pocket, and placed it back in his mouth before grabbing Sanha under the arm and dragging him from the room. “Let’s get to work.”
Aldous Gibson hadn’t moved, but his hands had contracted into fists so tight that his fingernails were cutting the flesh of his palms. He shook with a cocktail of shock, terror, and extreme fury spilled all over his face. “Sam,” he said in disbelief before taking a small step and then dropping to his knees. “No. No.” Tears began streaming down his face as he continued to shake, his back heaving as he sobbed.
Lindholm watched the monitor silently in disbelief as he saw the perspective of the post-human named Sanha, who was being dragged by the Purist super soldier toward an unknown destination. He turned to the other post-human, the one who claimed to be Aldous Gibson, the rogue traitor the government had claimed they’d killed nearly a decade earlier, and his heart went out to him. Lindholm had seen horror in his life, for the unforgiving war had taken almost everything that meant something from him. He no longer had a family—no longer had a wife. Aldous was now his brother.
He crouched down behind the grief-stricken man and placed his hand on the middle of his back.
“I’m so sorry,” Lindholm said quietly. “I know...I know you don’t think much of us here, out in the world. I know we must appear sub-human to you. But we’re not. We’ve been hardened by the horrors of this world and the cruel things we’ve seen, but we’re still human. We can still feel. It’s buried deep now, but we can still have compassion.”
Aldous didn’t respond. He held his hands over his head and continued to shake.
“Aldous, we can hide you here. When my staff arrives, I’ll explain what has happened. They’ll understand. You can trust them. You can trust me. We’ll protect you. We have no love or loyalty to the government. We will help you.”
Aldous suddenly moved, resting his back against the wall as he stared out at the dim light that pierced the ice-covered window. “Yes. Help,” he said. “That is what I require. I don’t think you’re sub-human. I don’t think that at all.” Aldous turned and regarded the monitor on which Sanha’s point of view continued to be displayed. Colonel Paine had tossed Sanha roughly into the Planck room and was now lighting his cigar as he put the post-human to work.
“It’s them who are sub-human—the Purists. And I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill every last one of them.”
25
Craig flew, guided by the A.I., toward the Titanic’s bridge, where the captain and Thomas Andrews, the ship’s builder, had just returned from an examination of the damage below deck. They were met on the bridge by the master-at-arms, First Officer Murdoch, and J. Bruce Ismay, Chairman of the White Star Line that built the Titanic. Ismay was the first to see Craig appearing over the rail of the ship, the green glow of his magnetic aura enraging him and causing his teeth to clench under his waxed mustache. “Tesla!” he seethed.
Murdoch pulled out his revolver, only to have the master-at-arms place his hand on Murdoch’s forearm, lowering it. “Don’t bother. I tried that already.”
Craig entered the cabin, still wet, but no longer soaking. The A.I. disengaged the protective cocoon so Craig could speak, but before he could get a word out, Ismay furiously lunged forward, shaking his fingers accusingly in Craig’s face. “You work for Tesla! He sent you here!”
William Stead and his photographer entered the bridge quietly at that moment, unnoticed by anyone in attendance and using the commotion as their camouflage.
“Tesla?” Craig asked the A.I.
“Don’t play coy!” Ismay shouted back in return. He turned to the captain and continued, “This is Tesla’s attempt to get revenge on J.P. for the debacle with that damned tower of his! He’s sent this thug here to sabotage Titanic’s maiden voyage and to make a fool out of J.P.!”
“He’s referring to J.P. Morgan,” the A.I. began explaining to Craig, “arguably the most successful tycoon of the era and majority owner of both White Star and The International Mercantile Marine Company. Nikola Tesla was an inventor who had built the Wardenclyffe Tower, a wireless communications tower capable of sending electrical power without wires. At the time of the Titanic’s sinking, J.P. Morgan and Tesla were in a legal battle over the tower, allegedly surrounding the fact that Morgan, who was the chief financial backer of the tower, hadn’t been aware of the tower’s capability of wireless transmission of power.”
“Explain,” Craig replied.
“I mean you deliberately—” Ismay began, before being cut off by Craig.
“Not you,” Craig said, holding his hand up to shush the man.
Ismay’s eyes narrowed as he confusedly tried to comprehend Craig’s meaning. The master-at-arms attempted to fill in the gaps, pointing to his temple and adding, “He has a difference engine in his noggin’.”
“J.P. Morgan financed the project thinking it would be the beginning of a communications empire,” the A.I. further elaborated, “but Tesla hadn’t informed him that the tower could do much more than just send radio signals. Morgan, who owned General Electric, wanted to continue business as usual with the electrical grid of the era. The Wardenclyffe tower would have destroyed that by providing free wireless power to anyone with an antenna to receive it.”
“Wireless power?” Craig said, astonished. “We don’t even have that technology in the future.”
“Other than in some limited capacities, you’re right,” the A.I. concurred.
“So these guys...they’re holding back technology?” Craig asked.
“In some ways. Although they were interested in progress, it was only progress that directly benefitted them.”
“Luddites,” Craig whispered.
“Your analogy is sound,” the A.I. replied.
“Look,” Craig said, suddenly speaking to the baffled men who stood in a semicircle around him, “I don’t work for Tesla.”
“Bullocks!” Ismay thundered.
“I’ve never met the man. I’m from a parallel universe.”
“Craig, I strongly advise against—” the A.I. began to protest.
Craig ignored him and continued, “In my universe, this ship turned hard to port to try miss the iceberg but the hull on the starboard side came into contact with the ice and was punctured several times, causing the Titanic to begin taking on water. It sank in two hours, killing over 1,500 people in the end.”
“Pure fantasy,” Ismay scoffed. “This ship is unsinkable,” he recited, sounding like an advertisement.
William Stead took that moment to speak up. “He is flying,” he pointed out. “That would seem rather fanciful, too, except we’re seeing it with our own eyes.”
“Tesla is capable of trickery like this!” Ismay shouted back. “You’ve seen the displays he puts on for the press! They look exactly like this! Electricity shooting out in all directions!” He turned back to Craig. “Did you think you’d get away with this?”
“The ship sank in two hours, and 1,503 people died,” Craig repeated, speaking directly to the captain. “I caused the ship to ram the iceberg—”
“He admits it!” Ismay shouted, aghast.
“—to save it from having its hull breached.”
“The hull is intact,” Thomas Andrews confirmed. “Amazingly, we’re not taking on water.”
Ismay turned to Craig and stuck his finger in Craig’s face once again. “You and Tesla are luc
ky for that, sir. You’re very lucky! Otherwise, mass murder would be added to the list of your crimes and you’d be seeing the electric chair in the near future—an invention I believe your employer had some hand in devising.”
“Dude, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Craig replied, “and I ain’t going to jail anytime soon, so get out of my face.” He then turned to the other men in the room. “I am going to the dining hall though. Man, I could sure use a cookie right now.”
Suddenly, the image of the small group of men began to warp, the figures bending and twisting in front of Craig as though they were reflections in a hall of mirrors.
“Craig,” the A.I.’s voice spoke, though slowly, as though he were playing on a cassette player as the battery ran low, “this is a phenomenon referred to as the ripple. It means someone has manipulated Planck energy and arrived in this universe.”
“So we’ve got company?”
“Indeed. It appears that someone from Universe 1 is in pursuit.”
26
“Ho-ly hell,” Colonel Paine whispered as he regarded the extent of the damage to the front deck of the Titanic. He stood, legs slightly crouched, rifle at the ready along with Lieutenant Drummey and Sergeant Degrechie, who stood identically postured. “Keep your eyes peeled, boys. This ain’t gonna be easy.”
On the bridge, Craig blinked a few times before he was sure that the ripple had passed. He’d never experienced a phenomenon like it. It was like being in a dream that wasn’t his, as though the universe was sleeping. The rest of the men on the bridge were equally discombobulated.
“We’ve been drugged,” Ismay finally said. “That’s how he’s doing it. He’s not flying. This is a shared hallucination, gentlemen.”
Craig grinned. “This guy just doesn’t give up.”
“Craig, the ripple effect does not reach further than a few dozen meters,” the A.I. warned. “Whoever has just entered this universe must be near.”
“Copy,” Craig replied. He turned and paced to the front of the bridge, looking out over the front deck. Immediately, he saw the three super soldiers, the leader stepping off of a silver Planck platform. “Found ‘em.”
“Super soldiers,” the A.I. noted. “Craig, this is very dangerous. We need to vacate immediately.”
“Wait a second,” Craig suddenly said as he watched the leader cautiously lead his men away from the platform. “Is that...? No, it can’t be.”
“Craig, we need to go. If Purist super soldiers are here, it means the facility has been overrun.”
“Hang on,” Craig said as he jogged out of the bridge and to the rail of the upper deck to get an unobscured view. “No. Hey, I know this guy.” Craig began running down the stairs toward the lower deck, heading straight for Colonel Paine.
“Craig! They will kill us!” the A.I. shouted in protest.
“No they won’t. I know him,” Craig repeated before running into his own magnetic field as the A.I. threw it up in front of him. “Ah! What the hell?”
“Think about what you’re doing, Craig. You are approaching a man whose chief aim is the destruction of strong artificial intelligence, and you have a strong artificial intelligence implanted in your head. This will not go well.”
“Remember that little talk we had about free will?”
“I remember, but—”
“Then trust me,” Craig said as he lowered his magnetic field and continued on his way toward his former commanding officer.
“You’re risking both of our lives,” the A.I. continued to protest.
“This is why you haven’t been able to pass the Turing test yet, my friend. You don’t know people. I do. Trust me. This guy won’t try to kill us.”
“Holy hell,” Colonel Paine repeated once again as a ghost strolled toward him. “I have got to be seeing things.”
“Colonel Paine,” Craig said as he stood to attention and saluted.
“Doc Emilson?” Paine replied, disbelieving.
“Yes, sir. It’s good to see you, sir.”
Paine took a moment to assess the situation before lowering his weapon and relaxing his posture. “Lower your weapons, boys,” he ordered the other two soldiers under his command. “This here’s a real live hero.”
Craig smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Doc? We came looking for an artificial intelligence. You were the last person I was expecting to see here.”
“I could say the same thing about you, sir. Yesterday I was talking to you at Cannon Air Force Base, and now I’m here.”
“Yesterday? Doc, that was—”
“Fourteen years ago. I know.”
“Doc,” Paine said, reaching up with his clawed prostheses and scratching under his helmet, “you’re gonna have to explain this to me nice and slow.”
“Of course, sir. But, sir, if you wouldn’t mind, do you think we could talk this out over a cookie? I’m starving.”
Paine cocked his head to the side as he mulled Craig’s unexpected request. He turned to the giant wall of deck wood that had been thrown up in the collision and then to the curious bystanders who milled about, watching the proceedings with fascination, albeit from a safe distance. Then he turned back to Craig. “Sure. A cookie sounds good.”
27
Craig sat in a wicker chair by the fire in the smoking room, a tray of cookies sitting next to him as he finished spooning the last of his baked apples into his mouth. The three Purists sat with him, forming a semicircle. Paine faced the fire directly, while Craig’s left side was illuminated by the warming glow. He’d retrieved his jacket, and it was now laid out on the floor, drying quickly next to the flames.
“More tea, sir?” asked an attendant, who politely waited on the strange quartet. Craig nodded enthusiastically and held his cup up for the man to refill. Paine stared at the man and wondered what he must have thought. The whole scenario was surreal for everyone involved, yet there was a strange acceptance. The ship had crashed, and bizarrely clad soldiers had suddenly appeared, yet life, somehow, went on. Craig, who had the right to claim he was the most out-of-place person in the room—a man out of time twice over—seemed the least disturbed by the current circumstances as he devoured his sweets.
“More tea, sir?” the attendant asked Paine.
Paine looked up at him with his cybernetic eyes, which, along with the crosshatch of stretch marks and scars, caused the attendant to recoil slightly. “No thank you,” Paine said as he attempted to force a slight smile for the sake of manners. The attendant nodded and moved on to Drummey and Degrechie.
Craig dipped a chocolate cookie in his tea and then took a large bite, chewing enthusiastically. “The cookies of the past were much better,” he noted in the brief moment between swallowing and taking his next bite. He pointed to the tray to offer one to Paine.
Paine waved it away. “Thanks, Doc. Ate before I came. You, on the other hand, look like you haven’t eaten in fourteen years.”
Craig shook his head. “Nah. I fell in the water. Long story, but I need to get my glucose levels back up.”
“Ah,” Paine nodded. “Smart.” Paine turned his head and watched as the attendant left the room. “So, you were explaining how you came to be here.”
“Yes. It’s going to sound crazy, though.”
“What doesn’t these days? Try me.”
“Well, like I said, to me, it was just yesterday that I was doing my SOLO jump over Shenzhen. The next thing I knew, I was waking up and my wife was holding my hand. Then she told me fourteen years had past while I’d been in suspended animation.”
“Heh,” Paine responded, nodding. “That explains it. Your body was preserved in one of those S.A. body bags. Little did we know when we returned what was left of you to her that she was going to try to put Humpty Dumpty back together.”
“Well, apparently she managed. The technology they have in their facility is off the charts, Colonel. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Craig paused for a m
oment as he gestured toward the cybernetic prostheses that the super soldiers sported. “Well, not until now anyway.”
“Doc, I hate to bring it up. But did your wife make you aware of her current marital status?” Paine asked.
Craig’s mouth turned down at the mention of his wife. He nodded. “Yeah. She told me.”
Paine sat back in his chair and shook his head as he watched the crackling fire. “That’s cold, man. You have my sympathies.”
“Thanks, Colonel,” Craig replied. He was about to say something else, but words failed him. There was really nothing that could be said on a subject that was still so tender. He shook his head and took another bite of his cookie.
“So how did you end up here?” Paine inquired further.
“When you arrived at the facility, Aldous Gibson hatched a plan to send my wife and I through the Planck machine with the A.I. in an attempt to evade you. They were convinced that your intention was to kill everyone in the facility and destroy the A.I. I agreed to go through the Planck to protect my wife, but at the last moment, she knocked me out and sent me through the machine alone.”
“So, are you telling me you’re not here willingly?” Paine asked.
“No,” Craig replied. “I want to go back home as soon as possible, sir.”
“I figured as much,” Paine replied. He turned to Drummey and Degrechie. “You see? He’s a good soldier.”
“Were you able to convince Aldous to tell you where we were?” Craig asked.
“No. Aldous Gibson is currently a fugitive from justice.”
Craig was momentarily in disbelief. “And Samantha as well?”
“No. We were able to capture her,” Paine said, trying to keep his face stone still.
“You mean,” Craig said, astounded, “he left her there?”
“Affirmative,” Paine answered before taking a sip of his tea.
“Goddamn. I knew he was a coward.”
Paine grinned. “You and I are on the same page on that one, Doc.”
Post-Human Series Books 1-4 Page 14