by Needles, Dan
“That’s good! Replay it!”
The journalist greeted Shen and Ed, and Shen responded.
He still stank. “Better, but—man he reeks! Do you have the scent for the Seattle guy?”
“Yes,” Pete said.
“Give me a whiff.”
“Who’s the Seattle guy, mom?” Allison asked.
“I don’t know. I forgot his name, but what a lover.”
Allison rolled her eyes.
“Ah, that will do it. Douse Shen,” Jaime said.
Instantly, the offensive odor was replaced by a cocktail of Old Spice deodorant, spiked with just a hint of Polo cologne.
“Okay people, resume!”
The scene resumed as Ed spoke: “Before we begin, I would like to offer a gift to my esteemed colleague.” Ed faced Shen. “May I present to you the finest in the United States’ consumer electronics—a Nexus Transporter.” The symbolic gesture showed, despite their differences, the two countries were economically linked and committed to free trade.
Shen bowed and accepted the gift. “Thank you. May I also offer you a gift?”
“Of course,” Ed said. He bowed.
Shen handed him a small jewel-covered box. Ed opened the box and extracted a Rolex watch.
Not a Chinese product, Allison mused. Her boss did not seem to mind the deviation from the script. “Thank you,” Ed responded, placing the watch on his wrist.
Shen gave him a broad, exaggerated smile.
The moderator turned to the Chinese diplomat. “Mr. Shen, why is China once again violating the Chinese peace accord in the South China Sea?”
The lines forming Shen’s grin transformed to a wrinkled brow. “The Chinese are a peace-loving people. We have no quarrel with the United States. Why must you meddle yet again in our domestic affairs?”
“Excuse me? Yet again? Could you be referring to your unprovoked invasion of the Spratly Islands last year? I’m afraid that the Spratly Islands are not just another part of China.”
Shen shook his head. “Your country is young and has a short memory. We’ve claimed those islands for over two thousand years. Though we are a patient and peaceful people, China has waited over a century for common sense to prevail and for the return of the Spratly Islands.”
Ed leaned forward aggressively. “That attitude is exactly why the United States and its ASEAN partners cannot allow these military exercises. Your claim on those islands is tenuous at best. Every nation in the area has staked claims on one or more of them. Vietnam, for example, backs its claim on the fact that it has occupied some of the cays and reefs for over three hundred years.”
Ed looked into the camera. “Now, as for Hainan, the people want political freedom. You’ve already given them economic freedom. Why can’t you let them hold democratic elections?”
Shen shook his head in denial. “Mr. Davis, I respect your intentions; however, China is not the United States. We have our own beliefs and code of honor. China holds the answers for China; the United States does not.”
“But then again, we don’t torture and butcher our own people,” Ed said.
Shen shifted in his chair. “Mr. Davis, it’s easy to talk about freedom when people are fed, clothed, and sheltered. It’s a different matter when they’re not. Let me remind you that there are two experiments going on right now. Like us, the Russians too are moving away from communism; however, the Russians chose to implement political freedom before economic freedom, holding democratic elections first before economic reform. Here in China we’ve done the reverse.
“Now tell me, which experiment do you think is working? Would you have our people starve, ruled by criminal organizations, as in Russia, to satisfy your imperialistic hunger to make everyone like yourselves?
“Mr. Davis, let me reiterate to you—China has no ill will toward the United States. Why are you trying to control us? Our military is purely defensive in nature. We simply want a reunified China with reconciliation among her different nationalities. We want harmony and peace. That is all.”
“That is not all, Mr. Shen. You cannot ignore that just a year ago your country invaded the Spratly Islands without provocation. And as for the Russians, their problem is that they’ve never had private ownership of land. The Czars, and later the communists, held all the lands for the Russian people. The Russians have no courts, no laws, and no customs geared for a capitalistic society. China, on the other hand, has had these things for centuries. That is, until the communists mucked things up.”
Shen stood. “I’m most sorry, but I must go now. Thank you.” He smiled politely, turned, and left.
The moderator paused. “Thank…thank you Mr. Shen.” He turned to Ed.
“Hold it!” Jamie shouted.
The scene froze.
“Okay. Everything after Shen’s final response until the interviewer speaks is out. And link the two scenes together. Make it smooth, people! Now, play!”
The scene backed up a few seconds and resumed. Shen spoke midsentence.
“ … want harmony and peace. That is all.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shen,” the moderator said. He turned his focus to Ed. “Mr. Davis, you’re the Assistant Secretary of Defense and as such oversee Warscape. For the benefit of our viewers, can you tell us what Warscape is.”
“Certainly. Warscape is a system we use for military surveillance of the South China Sea. The combined forces of ASEAN, which includes the United States, use Warscape as their eyes and ears. We can pinpoint every Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine unit regardless of nationality. It has protected us from Chinese hostility since before the China War.”
“It sounds impressive.”
Ed nodded.
“How does it work?”
“There are two sets of systems—one for our allies and one for the non-allied forces. We track our allies, the ASEAN military, through GPS. Every structure, soldier, and piece of equipment manufactured for the ASEAN armed forces has been outfitted with a GPS sensor. These sensors use satellites to calculate their exact positions and report those positions to Warscape, which is updated instantly with this information. This way we can track everything under our command and know when equipment is destroyed or disabled.
“In order to track non-ASEAN forces we blanket the area with inexpensive sensors that detect, identify, and report back to Warscape any changes in their surrounding environment. In addition, manned and unmanned vehicles on land, in the air, and under the sea patrol this area. They detect anything out of the ordinary. If that’s not enough, we have several satellites in geo-synchronous orbit with cameras trained on the South China Sea.
“These Warscape perspectives give us a complete, real-time picture of the battlefield. Warscape has eliminated the fog of war.” Ed finished speaking and leaned back in his seat.
The interviewer smiled. “Very impressive! How expensive is Warscape?”
“Slightly over three hundred billion dollars.”
“Three hundred … did you say three hundred billion?”
“Yes.”
“How can the President justify such an expenditure when all other budgets are being drastically cut?”
“This region is of vital interest to the United States. More oil rests under the waters of the South China Sea than under the sands of Kuwait. Further, it is one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. Over eighty percent of Japan’s trade alone passes through this region.”
“So what response, if any, is the U.S. going to take to the Chinese actions on Hainan Island and the presence of its Navy in the South China Sea?”
“Our carrier battle group, Abraham Lincoln, will position itself north, close to the Paracel Islands and near the Chinese fleet. The Chinese will back off and return to port. They have no choice. The PLA has no answer to the combined power of a carrier battle group and Warscape.”
“If Warscape just monitors the region, how can it be so important?”
“Before a nation can go to war, it must first prepare to attack.
It takes several days to set up lines of communication, mobilize forces, and stockpile logistics, such as ammo and fuel. Last year, just before the Chinese War started, Warscape detected China gearing up for battle. We stuck them before they were ready. Surveillance is everything.”
“But what if Warscape fails?”
“What is he doing?” Allison asked.
“Shh,” her mother whispered.
“It can’t fail,” Ed said. “How can millions of sensors, unmanned vehicles, and satellites fail all at once?”
“I hear your point; however, before World War II the French found themselves short on defense spending. They also placed their faith in a single system, a complex series of trenches and fortifications called the Maginot Line; yet, the Germans bypassed the line and France fell in three weeks. Aren’t you afraid of repeating history here by putting all your eggs into one basket?”
“The Chinese are geared for a land war, but any future war over the region will be won from the air. That requires aircraft carriers. The Chinese have no aircraft carriers.”
“What about Varyag?”
Ed shifted in his seat, and the interviewer continued.
“The Chinese battle group near the Paracel Islands includes a ship called Varyag. It is a Kuznetsov-class aircraft carrier bought from the Ukrainians in an auction by a surprisingly small company called the Chung Travel Agency Ltd. Ever hear of them?”
Ed shook his head.
“Neither had we. They claimed they were going to convert the ship into a floating hotel and gambling parlor, towing the carrier to Haikou on Hainan Island. The problem is that officials in Haikou had warned the Chung Travel Agency that they would not be permitted to dock the huge ship in their harbor. So, if Haikou had already rejected their plan for a floating entertainment complex, why do you think the company went ahead with buying and towing the warship?”
Ed glared at the interviewer, who continued to speak.
“The Hwang News Service has learned that the Chung Travel Agency does not have offices in Haikou. In fact, there’s no such company listed anywhere in Hainan …”
“Okay, that’s enough, Mom,” Allison said.
“ … It turns out that Chung Travel Agency is owned by a Hong Kong firm called Chin Holdings Company. Six of Chin Holdings’ eight board members hail from the same area in China, Shandong Province, which just happens to be where the Chinese Navy builds its ships. And Chin Holdings’ chairman is a former career military officer with the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. Coincidence, you think, Mr. Davis?”
“Mom, I said stop!”
“Computer, hold it,” Jamie said.
The scene froze.
“Please, call me Jamie. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I gave you an exclusive and in return you’re crucifying my boss!”
“The people have a right …”
“Stuff it, Mom. I can rant National Security and none of this will get aired.” Her mother sighed.
“I don’t have time to banter with you. Make your decision,” Allison said.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Cut everything after Ed’s speech on Warscape. That’s the spin he’ll be looking for.”
“Ally, don’t be disrespectful. If your father …”
“Edward was Dad’s best friend and practically my uncle. You know exactly what Dad would say.”
Silence followed. “Okay,” her mother said. “But I don’t think the networks will buy it.”
“Do your best.” Allison sighed. One down. Now to work on Steve and win him over.
8
Steve sat down on the bed next to his daughter. Although she forced a smile, her red and puffy eyes betrayed that she had been crying.
This could not be good for her, sulking like this. Steve sat up and opened the shades to her room. The sunlight streamed in and bathed Brooke in light. She was very distraught, he noticed, and he felt another pang of guilt. His invention had killed her friend. How could he tell her?
He sat down next to her, brushed the hair from her face, and wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks.
“Thanks,” Brooke said. She took his hand, cradled her face with it, and turned and pressed her forehead against his hand. After a few seconds, she sat up. Steve helped her into the wheelchair.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it now.”
“Take it easy today. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Steve said.
Brooke shifted in the chair and looked down at her withered legs.
It won’t be long, he thought. He would correct the past. Steve left and walked down the hall to his office where sat behind his desk.
“Dad?”
Steve looked up.
Brooke maneuvered the wheelchair through the doorway.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I need my Nexus. There’s a chemistry test next Monday.”
“Definitely not!”
Brooke stared at him, wide-eyed.
“I mean, uh, no. There’s a problem with the Signal Amplifier,” Steve said.
“Whatever. Can I use yours?”
Steve shook his head. “You need some down time.”
“I told you; I forgot about Monday’s exam. It’ll just take a minute.”
“If it’s just a minute, use the Portal Sphere.”
“You’re not making sense!” Her gaze bored into him.
He looked down. “Your friend died while using the Nexus. I don’t want you to use it until I know more.” There. He had said it.
“Camille, her name was Camille! You could at least try to remember her name now that she’s dead!”
Steve cringed. He was never good with names. “I’m … I’m sorry, Brooke.”
Brooke left his office and slammed the door the best she could from her wheelchair.
He should have watched Austin more closely. The Nexus should have never been released without the hardware fix. Poor Brooke. He knew he was being overprotective. Out of the millions of Nexus users, why would Brooke be the next victim? Something in his gut warned him just the same.
Steve reached down and unlocked the file drawer of his desk. No files were inside, only a single bottle of Glenfiddich Scotch and a lone tumbler glass. He filled the glass.
He had not always been a heavy drinker. After leaving college, or rather after he was kicked out, he took a long hiatus from his addiction. Much later, when Nexus Corporation had edged toward bankruptcy, he rediscovered scotch to calm his nerves.
Steve drained the glass and contemplated the empty tumbler. He recalled his first sip after so many years of sobriety. Closing his eyes, he relived the sensations—the feeling of scotch sliding down his throat, his body absorbing it before it reached his stomach. His hands calmed, and the anxiety he felt dissipated. After that day, he became subdued and withdrawn. Numbed by his addiction, he would have been content with letting his company starve itself out of existence; but then fate intervened. His breaks failed and he crashed his car.
Steve filled his glass and swallowed hard. Almost a year had passed since he wrapped the car around the tree and killed Tamara and crippled Brooke. What if the scotch in his blood had not dulled his reflexes? Could he have navigated the turn? Could he have discovered the problem earlier, saved his wife and spared Brooke?
He was lucky. By the time he reached the hospital, most of the alcohol had left his system. A few on the scene were suspicious, but no one knew for sure. To Austin’s credit he had helped keep things hush-hush. Steve had vowed that day to make a difference in Brooke’s life. He had made a covenant with himself—Brooke would walk again.
The next day, with courage borrowed from scotch, Steve empowered Austin to run Nexus Corporation. It enabled Steve to focus on his secret project, the Nexus healer, which would enable Brooke to walk again. Steve shook his head and attempted to evade the memory. What had he done to Brooke? He had taken so much from her—her mother, the ability to walk, and now her best friend.
Steve materialized in his home away from home—his virtual office. In all directions, an endless black floor, checker-boarded with neon green lines, stretched to the horizon. He did most of his work here. The boundless open space without any frills or distractions allowed him to focus.
“Jan,” Steve said, summoning his automated secretary, an intelligent software agent that controlled his virtual office. She functioned as a glorified keyboard and screen for his VR server. Like every site on the Internet, his home office resided on the hard drive of a VR server located in some remote office building. Jan interpreted what he said and executed the appropriate programs on the VR server. Jan’s ability to understand abstract problems and her attempts to solve them is what made her software intelligent.
Jan materialized before him. He had modeled her after Mrs. Jan Beecher, his high school math teacher. Steve had also programmed her with the same disposition. “Oh, good, you’re back. I was getting worried.”
“Jan, open the Nexus file,” Steve said.
He had carried Austin’s file to his office. The object representing the file had been copied from Nexus Corporation’s server, transmitted across the Internet, and saved on his office’s VR server. If anyone had examined the file while it was in transit, it would have appeared as a random series of numbers, letters, and symbols. The encryption key, like a translator, transmuted the file and revealed the true data contents.
“What are you waiting for?” Jan probed.
Steve chuckled. Sometimes he regretted programming Jan with such an attitude. “The key is patch, he responded.
“How creative,” Jan said.
The file in his hand disappeared as Jan broke the seal, and a circular globe appeared and levitated in front of him. A short file of Camille Anderson played across its surface. She had visited the house once while on a family trip. She looked now as she had looked then—beautiful, innocent, and very, very young.