Keystones: Altered Destinies

by Alexander McKinney

  He smiled at her again, but this time without mischief. “I do, and there’s an Elevator that I want you to protect.”

  She wasn’t surprised that he had a plan. He always had a plan. “Where?” she asked.

  “Boa Vista. I’ve booked you a first-class ticket.”

  She pouted a little just to tease him and said in her best little-girl voice, “You’re not going to go with me?”

  He looked amused again. “Sit still for that long? On a plane?” His voice was incredulous. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll meet you there.”

  She’d known that he was going to say something like that. One day he’d shock her and accompany her on a plane. Maybe. “What are you going to do while I’m traveling?”

  “I’ll keep looking for the best path.”

  “What if it isn’t this one?”

  He shrugged, showing less a lack of concern than a lack of certainty. “Well, then, spicy calamari.”

  “How many times now?”

  “I’ve lost count.”

  6 Months Earlier

  Calm

  Calm was kite-boarding. He enjoyed the feel of the wind pulling him forward. He enjoyed the light rain that tap-danced across his face and wetsuit. He enjoyed the bubble of security that he created inside the hurricane that was attempting to savage southern Florida.

  Outside his bubble winds howled at well over a hundred kilometers an hour. Rain lashed the sea. Waves crashed against each other. Inside his bubble the wind was a perfect nineteen kilometers an hour, and the aforementioned rain was a mere drizzle.

  An ambitious news crew filmed his progress over the water. He ignored them. Keystones were rare. There were fewer than one hundred documented cases on Earth, and Calm was far and away the most famous. His power wasn’t flashy, but it did allow him to do things that captivated the public.

  At home again Calm peeled his wetsuit off and was thankful for the rain that had rinsed the salt off his gear. A red flash indicated that he had messages. This was not unusual. In fact, the red light had been flashing when he woke up that morning, and the morning before that. As one of the most famous people on the planet, he was forever receiving offers of employment, endorsement, and marriage.

  Calm ignored the messages and proceeded to shower, enjoying the sensation of warm water on his skin. The next item on his agenda was dinner. Chopping onions was something that he found soothing.

  He was less than pleased when he was interrupted by the chime of his doorbell. A lack of privacy was the cost of celebrity, and one of the reasons he had chosen his apartment building was the discretion of its door staff. Several other people who valued their privacy lived there, and they all paid a premium for a sanctuary at home.

  When Calm glanced at the video display that flashed up on his fridge, he was both curious and, to a lesser extent, annoyed. This visitor wasn’t the usual groupie. Instead, she was a serious-looking woman with two henchmen standing behind her. Their demeanor suggested that they were representatives of some branch of the government.

  Still chopping his vegetables, he spoke to them over the intercom. “What are you doing here? As far as I know, I’m up to date on all of my taxes. Should I be calling my accountant?”

  The lady spoke with a very professional air. “We have a business proposition for you that is better spoken of in private.”

  Calm decided to brush them off as he would almost any unwanted guests. “I’m not taking visitors right now,” he replied. “Perhaps you could come back tomorrow or next month?”

  “Not really. This will only take a moment of your time.”

  “What is it about?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say over an open system.”

  Persistent visitors were the most annoying kind. “Ah, yes. Well, I’m not at liberty to change my visitor policy on such short notice.”

  Just as Calm was about to give the voice command to terminate the conversation, the woman spoke again: “We represent Federated Asteroid Mining and Extraction.”

  Calm paused mid-chop. “You’re from FAME?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  His mind whirled. “Are you trying to involve me in a publicity stunt?”

  “No.”

  Calm decided to put his dinner on hold. Walking to the front door, he looked at his three visitors. “Before I let you in,” he said, “I’d like to see some proof that you are who you say you are.”

  “I’ve been given temporary access to your Secure Identity for the purpose of this meeting,” replied the woman. “Would sending a message to it suffice?”

  Calm became very still. Issued at birth, Secure Identities were supposed to be impossible to decrypt or track. Used for biometric verification of identity, they made it possible to receive messages from the government, but all that Calm ever received was tax returns. “You have access to my Secure Identity?” he asked.

  “Temporarily,” the woman answered.

  “Send a message then.”

  Calm grabbed his Uplink and let it scan his eye before he accessed his Secure Identity. Waiting for him was a new message from Helena Baldstone, a senior member of FAME with reportedly impeccable credentials. Calm’s curiosity was piqued. “Come in,” he said to the visitors. “You have my attention for the moment.”

  Playing the gracious host, Calm led them to his large living room, which was filled with exotic art, statues, paintings, and wall hangings. The furniture was less exciting—three comfortable couches and two chairs upholstered in brilliant white. They were impractical, and he didn’t use them often. Seating himself on one of the chairs, he looked at his visitors and made a steeple with his fingers. “So what do you want from me?”

  “We want help on a classified project,” replied Baldstone, “but first I’d like to know more about your unique abilities as a Keystone. The present assessment of your usefulness is based on unsubstantiated rumors and pure conjecture.”

  Calm sighed inwardly. Another price of fame was that people always wanted demonstrations.

  “The public perception is that you are nigh invulnerable. FAME’s research into your past reveals that you entered the limelight six years ago on February 3, 2153, when you walked into a burning building and quenched the flames, room by room, as you walked through it.”

  Leaning forward in her seat, Helena Baldstone looked at Calm with her brows beetled, trying to gauge his reaction to the reference. Calm sensed that the rest of the discussion was going to hinge on what he said next. “Yes, what of it?” he said. “A simple Net search from any Uplink could have told you that.”

  Still leaning forward, Helena rubbed her chin. “Was it difficult?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Was it difficult for you to put out the fires?”

  Baldstone’s face betrayed an odd intensity. Calm knew that there was much more at play than how he had handled the fires. “No, it wasn’t, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “A lot. Is it also true that in cold climates the air around you is warm and gentle like spring? Or that in the summer you can create an oasis of comfort?”

  Calm had once enjoyed answering questions like these back when the range of his abilities was all new to him, but that was years ago. “Yes, all of that is true,” he answered, “but hundreds of sources could have told you as much.”

  “Have any such challenges ever presented you with the slightest of difficulties?”

  “No, but now you are beginning to bore me. Would you please cut to the chase?”

  “What I’m about to tell you is classified. Should you choose not to accept our offer and disseminate this information to the public, there will be severe consequences.”

  The words imparted a thrill to Calm because his constant battle in life was against boredom. Anything different was good. “Go on,” he said.

  “Do you understand the ramifications of what I’m telling you?”

  Beating down his desire to demand that Baldstone get on with it, Calm forced himself to
speak in measured tones. “Yes, and once again you have my curiosity. Now please, go on.”

  “FAME has discovered what we believe to be an alien artifact far out in the Oort Cloud.”

  Calm considered this. “And how do I fit in?”

  Helena looked off to the side before meeting his gaze. “All craft and probes that approach the artifact are obliterated.”

  “Ah.” Calm already knew what his answer would be.

  “We want you to be part of a team that approaches the object.”

  “I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no.”

  Baldstone leaned further in, her hands gesticulating as she spoke. “But this could be one of the greatest discoveries of our lives!”

  “There is an unsubtle difference,” Calm replied, “between walking through fires and hurricanes unscathed and exposing oneself to cosmically destructive energy.”

  “We’re willing to pay you five hundred million dollars to submit to a series of tests to see whether you might be capable of providing protection from these forces, and another five hundred million if you provide the protection.”

  This offer forced Calm to pause as he considered his options. His celebrity led to the easy accumulation of wealth that he’d banked and invested throughout the world, but even for him a billion dollars was an attractive piece of bait. He tilted his head to the side. “What sort of tests are we talking about here?”

  Two days later Calm found himself at a remote facility in Alaska. The tests started out small but grew in scale. In the initial test Calm was placed at the edge of an explosion to see whether he dampened the released energy in his immediate area.

  Escalation led to his standing next to a rather large stack of explosives. Awesome destructive force was unleashed but did not affect him. So far every test showed that all violent surges of energy within seven meters of Calm were subdued.

  His abilities appeared to have improved throughout the course of the testing. At first alpha, beta, and gamma radiation had been capable of penetrating his sphere of influence, but with time that ceased to be a problem. He could now walk through a nuclear reactor or the explosion of an atomic bomb unharmed.

  After a month of testing Calm was again approached by Baldstone. “We’ve tested you against everything that we’re capable of,” she said. “Are you willing to try yourself in the Oort Cloud?”

  “If I say no, I can walk away with five hundred million dollars right now?”

  Baldstone looked away and played with her right earlobe before looking Calm straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

  Calm allowed Baldstone to fidget for a few seconds before answering. “Let’s do it.”

  Helena’s eyes widened, and she pulled her head back a few centimeters. It was one of the most overt reactions Calm had seen on her part. “Pardon me?”

  Calm thought about just how dull his life had become. “Let’s go see what’s out there.”

  Transit to the Oort Cloud was slow and uneventful. Calm’s outrageous compensation helped his patience but didn’t ease the tedium. He hoped to visit a few of the habitats, and the Dyson Rings on the way back, anything to ease the boredom of the trip out.

  Approaching FAME Station 5, Calm felt excitement. This was rare for him. His Keystone ability didn’t just negate forces but tended to dampen strong emotions. As the transport vehicle docked at the station, his excitement barely lessened.

  After arrival there Calm was introduced to a whirlwind of people he already knew something about from dossiers read on the trip. They were much more excited to meet him because of both his celebrity status and anticipation regarding his abilities.

  Almost as soon as they arrived, he was escorted to a new ship named Explorer. In order to take maximum advantage of Calm’s abilities, Explorer was equipped with a tiny craft, Armstrong, which boasted an impressive array of sensory equipment and processing power.

  Calm was briefed on the operating parameters of Explorer and his duties, which included his remaining in place and not distracting the Armstrong’s pilot. Keeping the two of them alive went without saying and added an extra layer of anxiety to the entire affair.

  While traveling to the artifact, Calm found himself restless and unable to remain still. Despite his muted emotions, he was on the verge of either death or incredible discovery. The scientists surrounding him exuded a palpable sense of tension.

  The artifact was displayed on several screens from many angles. There was no question that it was of non-human origin. A wide-based cylinder tapered toward a rounded top but otherwise looked unimpressive. The rocky ground on which it rested was barren and featureless, hardly unusual for a meteorite.

  Calm and his companion made their way to the Armstrong. The craft was as stripped down as possible. Less than two meters across and four long, it required both men to wear environmental suits to protect them from the vacuum of space.

  The real test would begin when Calm left the Explorer. The event horizon for damage from the artifact had been well documented by probes. Calm’s first job was to survive. He looked at his gloved hand and pictured himself closing the distance and touching the artifact. He wasn’t ready for the spike of fear that invaded his thoughts.

  For the first time since that first fire, the one that launched him to fame, he recognized a danger that made him uncertain. It was terrifying; it was wonderful; it was intoxicating.

  As the Armstrong crossed the boundary that promised destruction, Calm became aware of hostile forces attempting to breach his field of protection. Purple splashes of energy danced around them like lightning attacking a goldfish bowl. A handful of spikes penetrated closer to the ship, infiltrating his sphere of influence. Calm’s breath caught in his throat, unable to complete the journey to his lungs. Fear of failure and fear of death became real to him.

  Over the com system he heard, “Armstrong report! Are you undamaged? Armstrong report!”

  “Yes,” Calm replied succinctly, unsure whether his voice could be trusted.

  “Do you still have live data feeds from our sensors?” queried his companion.

  “Data feeds are online.”

  “Then you should have known that we were uninjured. Continuing approach to the artifact.”

  Calm watched in silence as the fury of the energy surrounding them intensified. Inside his suit he was sweating, and his heart hammered in his chest. Even the most arduous of the tests that FAME had run on him failed to induce a physical reaction. Yet here he was besieged, and he felt the need to succeed.

  Panting shallow breaths, he was amazed to feel himself challenged. “Bring us in quickly,” he urged. “I don’t know whether I can maintain this indefinitely.” The landscape ahead swam closer as the Armstrong accelerated.

  Spots flared in Calm’s vision, but still his sphere of protection held. Once he was within one hundred meters of the artifact, the energy that had cascaded around them vanished and with it the pain. Calm’s heart slowed, and the rapid pace of his breathing eased. “It appears that we are no longer under attack,” he reported.

  There was a brief silence on the com system. “Could you care to clarify that statement?”

  “I’m not being forced to protect us anymore.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re the scientists. You tell me.”

  The Armstrong then touched down on gravel in front of the squat artifact. Up close it was apparent just how large it was. “What do we do now?” Calm asked.

  “Nothing. Let the sensors do their work.”

  Calm waited for the Armstrong to complete several sweeps of the artifact’s perimeter before he spoke again. “Are you getting any information?” he inquired.

  “Yes.”

  “Anything useful?”

  Silence was the only response.

  Cay

  Cay stared at the white ceiling above him and thought about the decisions that had led him to his cramped and windowless cell. The only view of the outside world was of the hallway seen through his tr
ansparent door. The cell was only four meters by two meters. It was his entire world.

  He had years left to spend in this space. His bed was spartan and uncomfortable. The matte steel walls were devoid of even basic decoration. He wasn’t even allowed an Uplink. A few paper books rested on his table.

  He had developed his Keystone ability while quite young, and he had reveled in it. Doors unlocked themselves and opened to his touch. When he learned that electronic systems would roll over for him, a whole host of delights presented themselves. Bank accounts, private e-mails, and videos were at his fingertips. All that should have been secure was his for the taking. Looking back, he realized that his arrest had been inevitable.

  The most interesting information was that which belonged to people in the public eye. These people also tended to have longer arms than most others. Cay had specialized in upsetting them.

  Now he spent his days in a cell with a door that wasn’t locked but welded shut. He was never allowed out, and he was forced to accept his meals through a slot in the door because it was a more cost-effective solution than hiring guards to prevent his escape.

  After a year in that prison he wasn’t sure whether he regretted his crimes or just getting caught, especially now that he realized there were legal ways for someone with his particular talent to make money. The terms of his sentence dictated that upon his release he wasn’t to use his Keystone ability for twelve months. He had to prove that he was a reformed man and no longer a menace to society. Whatever that meant.

  A voice called through his meal slot, “You have a visitor.”

  Cay jerked in surprise, twisting to stare into the hall. A visitor? Who was it? Not even his family was allowed to see him.

  Standing there was his usual guard and an unknown woman dressed all in black. Her face was serious, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Wrinkles etched deep grooves in her forehead. Her mouth was surrounded by lines, none of which seemed to have been formed by laughter.