Nexus

by Ryan W. Aslesen

  Enough. Call it the post-mission blues and shake it off.

  But his new and unsettling thoughts on the pointlessness of his quest lingered. He simply couldn’t banish them at the moment.

  Shai’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Max had never seen anyone type so fast, and he could only wonder what sort of favor the kid was working on and for whom. He supposed he could ask, yet he didn’t. It’s none of my business unless he makes it so.

  Shai did not reveal the nature of his favor. He said nothing at all for several hours as he incessantly typed and clicked, finally finishing up at around 1700. “I hope the recipient of that favor appreciates the effort you put into it,” Max said as they packed up his laptop and prepared to hit the road.

  Shai shrugged. “I’m not so sure that I do. But that isn’t up to me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Less than a year before, Max had journeyed to DC for answers that might only be provided by a select few agents of various status within the CIA. He received no help from them for his trouble, only their cold and mutilated corpses after they refused to yield any significant leads. After the interrogations came the inevitable cleanup. He sunk one body in Baltimore harbor, and he buried the other two in an old landfill located in a tract of lonely Maryland woods with all the other trash.

  Shai would not be resting beside killers. He deserved better.

  As Max turned the sandy earth with the shovel—pain shooting up his right arm with every jab and scoop of the spade—he considered the spot he’d chosen: a low rise in the coastal marshes of Virginia, not far from Quantico. He’d visited the spot only once, some twenty years before, when Janet came for his graduation from the Basic School. They found it while taking a hike and were so moved by the wild beauty of the place, with its commanding view of the primeval marshes, that they’d made love in this very spot. It seemed like an eternity ago. Deer and other wildlife were the only regular visitors here. He knew a dozen other spots that offered greater isolation. Yet he knew of none more suitable for a final resting place.

  The drudgery of the dig absorbed him. He threw himself into the work with a great and tireless vigor, the pain in his arm be damned.

  ***

  You understand now.

  At first Shai’s thoughts had come with no perspective at all, for they had been rudimentary, the parroting of requests and assignments from his father, tasks carried out by a device made to carry out tasks: Read this and try to memorize it, word for word. Find the shape that doesn’t fit the pattern. Study this treatise and attempt to analyze it.

  Now they came in the second person yet still in his father’s voice. You cannot be afraid. This is impossible.

  No, Father, I am afraid right now. The thought came, for the first time, in a strange inner voice he recognized as his own, startling him even though it shouldn’t have. Illogic had begun to take control, overriding the coding installed by his father… or perhaps merely cooperating with it. A computer could not think, only do what it was commanded to. The benefits of actual thought—the ability to create and solve problems independent of commands and programming—came with a price: fear, sorrow, rage, and a host of other emotions.

  As Shai watched the gently lapping water in the cove turn ever brighter shades of gold while the sun set behind his back, he finally understood exactly why the world was such an imperfect place, despite having in abundance all the ingredients necessary for a utopia. And as endless night descended on what might be referred to as his life, he likewise comprehended the misery pervasive throughout the world—for he had learned to feel it.

  The first seed of what he came to recognize as emotion had been attachment, first to his father and then to Margaret. He hadn’t understood why he desired this, though he now recognized it as a reaction to a fear he hadn’t known and could not comprehend until he saw Don gunned down in the restroom. I was terrified.

  When creating Shai, his father had never have imagined him being able to feel emotions, even in the best of circumstances, and Shai had a hard time believing it even now. In the wake of those early blips of feeling, his programming quickly took control once again, balancing his thoughts and always returning them to logic. Yet as his feelings multiplied, the logic keeping them in check began to diminish, abandoning him for longer periods to the unpredictable tides of human emotion.

  Though he knew it no longer mattered—that soon he would cease to exist—a single question continued to batter the core of his thought processes: Is emotion really such a terrible thing? After all, it had been his emotions—loyalty, anger, affection—that saved Margaret from Fisher, not his programmed code that directed him to be benevolent to humans at all times. Emotion had made him realize that people were not all the same, that not all of humanity was worth saving. Some, indeed, had to be eliminated for the greater good, for their purposes centered only on destruction.

  That last notion disturbed him the most, for it resembled the hateful thoughts of an indoctrinated zealot. Who was he—or anyone else for that matter—to decide whether men should live or die? Could such condemnations be logical, or were they always the product of hatred and distrust? Despite the lessons of history, many in the world still wished to see those harboring different ideologies cast down, imprisoned, put to death, just for thinking differently. They will not admit it, but the thoughts are there, and all driven by emotion. And if my emotions should ever wrest total control from logic, I could become just like them.

  This could not be allowed to happen. Despite their worst feelings, most of humanity lacked the resources to act upon them. They could only follow. Shai could take command. And quite easily. Just one emotionally driven, misguided thought on his behalf could throw the world into utter chaos.

  Many emotions, however, had not visited him; he only knew them by definition. Chief among them, the hardest to comprehend, was regret. A sense of loss, disappointment, or dissatisfaction. Despite all of the hate and suffering he’d witnessed during a very short period, he felt no regret for having been created. For in addition to seeing the worst humans could do, he had also seen them at their best.

  He missed Margaret’s presence the instant he left her. Do I love her, as a human child naturally loves its mother? He couldn’t tell, though he knew that his feelings for her surpassed simple preference.

  His thoughts turned to Max, who toiled in a pit, not fifty feet away, back in the pines. He is a good man, even if he doubts it himself. For that very reason, Shai couldn’t help but fear for his future. If he finds the men he seeks, if he exacts his revenge, will his regret be sated? Will he have any further purpose in life after that? Will he simply end his own existence, having nothing else to fight for? Shai couldn’t say. Not only because it was impossible to predict the future in anything other than broad terms, but because Max Ahlgren remained something of an enigma, even to an intelligence like Shai’s. Put simply, Max was no normal human, despite the fact that he possessed the entire array of human emotions. Shai considered him nothing short of extraordinary.

  And that is what the world needs, for despite my intelligence I cannot fix society. That is the task and duty of extraordinary people. Margaret Leet, Max Ahlgren, and others like them were the only ones capable of saving humanity from itself.

  I can only wish them luck and infinite courage. They will need both.

  ***

  Max speared the shovel into the dirt pile before swiping at the gritty sweat on his brow with a dirt-streaked forearm. “It’s time, Shai.”

  Shai sat with his back turned to Max as he watched the sun set for the last time. He nodded and then stood. Max took his hand and led him into the stand of pines and scrub. Soon they stood next to Shai’s grave.

  This is not right, Max thought as he looked down on the boy. What kind of world do we live in where intelligence like this winds up buried in a hole? Meanwhile, a pack of ruthless wolves would continue to run society their way—through indoctrination, intimidation, extortion, genocide.
All the good he could have done, a savior cut down before he could even scratch a mark on the world.

  “Before I go, I have something to tell you,” Shai said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “The favor I did today was for you.”

  “I don’t deserve it, whatever it is.”

  “That will be for you to decide once you see it.” He offered Max a wan grin. “I was constructed with highly advanced software that records the facial telemetry of everyone I see. Today I entered the data of the man who escaped from the warehouse and conducted a search for his identity. You will find his information in an email I sent to your dark web address. I believe he is connected with the death of your family. I hope this helps you in whatever you are after.”

  “Thank you. I hope so too, though right now I feel like following you into that hole.”

  “Please do not do that. Just remember, if this person is involved in your family’s murder, killing him will not bring them back to life. And if you are successful in bringing them all to justice, please promise me that you will stop there.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “You must miss your son terribly.” Shai patted the back of Max’s hand in an attempt at comfort.

  “Every moment of the day. He was the best of me.”

  “Thank you for doing this. I know it is horrible for you. I’m scared.”

  Max heaved a sigh. “So am I. Do you remember when I told you that you’re more of a man than most men?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s the truth. And all men face this moment in the end.”

  “I am ready.”

  I am not. But that didn’t matter. Duty—and loyalty—trumped any feelings of apprehension. He stepped behind Shai and drew his pistol.

  ***

  Max held a desiccated pine bough over the lighter’s flame, watched as the reddish-brown needles started to crackle and smoke. The flames climbed up the branch, and when the bough was nicely alight, he tossed it into the grave. With one dull whoosh the gasoline ignited, flames shooting upward from the hole. A noisome stench of burning plastic and frying electronics soon permeated the smoky air.

  “I’ll make the most of what you’ve given me, even if it won’t bring them back.” He thought of Swift and the miniscule measure of satisfaction he felt now that the man was dead. It doesn’t matter. It’s all about duty, same as this. And at least this duty was done. The Nexus project had perished, though eventually some scientist would pick up where Daniel Farber left off. Max only hoped that humanity could handle the next android marvel thrust into the world.

  The acrid black smoke produced by Shai’s burning skin soon overpowered Max. As he stepped away, he noticed the stuffed rabbit lying on the ground about a foot from the pit. He quickly snatched it up, then backed away from the intense heat. As much as he missed David, he hadn’t kept any of his belongings—looking upon them after his death had been far too painful. The photos, which he rarely looked at, were hard enough to endure.

  Shai had developed emotions to a point that Max wondered if he also had a soul. “If you do, say hello to David. I think you guys will get along.”

  He tossed the rabbit into the flames, then sat back against a tree to watch the fire roar.

  CHAPTER 19

  Max drove north on Route 1 filled with a sense of utter despondency. Parting with comrades who had fallen during a mission was never easy, but the soldiers he’d worked with had signed on for war, and the responsibility for their deaths always rested in their own cold fingers. Even Heat, a civilian, had known the danger, though Max doubted she’d truly grasped its magnitude until she lay dying.

  But Shai had never been given a choice. He had been created to improve the world and revolutionize how we thought about life itself. I wish it could have ended differently. He might have fulfilled his purpose. But Max doubted he would have been allowed the chance. As a believer in free will, he couldn’t have denied Shai his last request. The call wasn’t mine in the end. Yet the question would always remain: Could Shai have beaten the odds and changed the world for the better?

  I’ll wrestle with that question for the rest of my days.

  Max had dreaded the possibility of Shai’s death since his initial surprise at having to guard him. From babies to adolescents, enough child corpses already capered about in his nightmares. He would dream of Shai as well, no question. But he wouldn’t be playing with the other children. They had died senselessly, casualties of war or the treachery of government organizations, while Shai had perished willingly and for a noble cause, as much a good soldier as a lost innocent. Max knew he would always blame himself for Shai’s untimely demise, even though the boy had absolved him of all responsibility. Doesn’t matter. I pulled the trigger.

  Technically, Max’s assigned mission was over—he’d seen Shai safely to his only logical end. But now he had to consider what might have befallen Leet since his departure. They hadn’t slain all of the agents after Nexus, and the survivors—Green from the safehouse and the mysterious figure spotted at the warehouse—would still be hunting for Shai. They’d had time to regroup and formulate a plan, and Leet was in no position to stop them. Max pondered how they would go about seizing her. Arrest warrant, probably. He didn’t think they would kill her, not yet, but they might well have snatched her from the hospital already, either legally or by abduction.

  If she was still there, she would certainly be under surveillance.

  Max had to spring her from the hospital somehow so they could disappear for a while and work on clearing their names. Marklin could help with that. One of the general’s clients, Senator Pierce, still owed Max a favor. But he needed breathing room before he could make the call.

  He needed a plan right now, yet nothing occurred to him as he drove. Then he saw a sign for a shopping complex looming ahead, America’s largest retailer of general household goods topping the display. Rudiments of a strategy clicked together in his mind. Max considered the goods he might need to pull off a disguise and a distraction as he drove into the lot. Fireworks stood out as a necessity, provided they could be legally purchased in Virginia. If not, he could improvise with certain goods from his storage unit, though overkill would be an understatement for that.

  ***

  Upon reaching the hospital, Max made straight for the priority parking area near the ER entrance, reserved for police, emergency responders, and hospital security vehicles. A lowered security gate, operated by a guard in a shelter, barred access to the lot. Max drove past the lot, hung a left, and scrutinized the vehicles parked there as he slowly cruised by. Five cars occupied the twenty-odd spaces: a DC squad car, two white Jeep Cherokees topped with yellow strobe lights, and two black vehicles, one a Suburban and the other a Crown Vic. Both the black cars sported government plates. Hardly confirmation that agents were guarding Leet—government vehicles moved about DC like ants on a carcass at any hour of the day—but perhaps an indicator. The police cruiser might have been there for the same reason.

  Max drove on, circling the complex as he tried to figure out which room on the third floor Leet occupied. He tried to picture the labyrinth of corridors, though it proved hard to remember. When last he’d been here, getting Leet to the ER and himself patched up had been his only priorities. He hadn’t noticed much of anything else. Think. He retraced the steps he’d taken to reach the third floor from the first-floor ER. That side of the building. Or so he hoped…

  He pulled into a space between two cars, facing the hospital, and shut off the engine. His binoculars lay ready on the passenger seat. Hospitals never slept but people did. The dashboard clock read 2:36 am, and most of the windows were dark. Max believed that one of the two illuminated rooms on the third floor housed Leet. He focused the binoculars and watched, waited. Agents on watch would be bored, perhaps pacing the room, yet he saw no silhouettes moving between the slight part in the curtains during almost half an hour of surveillance.

 
Maybe I got it wrong. He switched to the other room, where the curtains were wider apart. After a few minutes he made out the shoulders of a figure moving about. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the person wore blue clothing, perhaps the hospital scrubs of a nurse. He kept watching until the room went dark a few minutes later.

  Sensing that he’d been right the first time, he refocused on that room, now the only light shining on the floor. Within minutes he saw a shadowy figure pass between the curtains and then disappear; then he saw him go by again, pacing the other way. That has to be it.

  A few extra minutes of surveillance removed most of his doubt. The figure stepped between the curtains and drew them back slightly. No blue scrubs of a nurse or the white coat of a doctor, the man wore a dark suit. Bingo.

  Max pulled the Suburban to a space near a side exit that probably accessed a stairwell. Shouldering a small daypack loaded with his supplies, he walked to the door and tried it. Locked, no surprise. He figured it would open from the inside and didn’t worry about it further.

  He walked around the building, encountering three people smoking near the main entrance. Halting near the glass double doors, he pretended to check his phone while surreptitiously glancing through the high plate-glass windows into the lobby, on the lookout for any agents or security who might be posted. He saw no cops or suits, only a lone security guard in a white uniform stationed by the information desk, monitoring the entrance. Not unusual, the hospital likely posted security there 24-7.

  Had the feds given them Max’s description? Hard to say, yet certainly probable. A metal-detecting wand hung from the guard’s belt. Had the store carried what he’d needed, he would have gone in unarmed; as it stood, he would have to bypass the guard to sneak in the .380 strapped to his ankle.