They waited for him in a small park that had once been a large park. The vast majority of it was now an exclusive, fenced off garden for the super-wealthy. The fraction left as a park made for a fairly anonymous meeting point. It lay off a nondescript street lined with nondescript apartment buildings. Descript refugees roamed the park, enjoying the sunshine or else hunting any birds stupid enough to land near the starving humans.
William was late and Bill looked nervous. He paced next to a tree. “Where is he?” Tanya put a kindly hand on his shoulder. “Stone, it’ll be okay.”
“You think so?” his bushy white eyebrows rose in hopeful expectation. If only Luthor was this easy to comfort.
“Maybe he will finally see how much you care for him.”
“I appreciate it Tanya, but there is a better chance that global warming isn’t a load of shit than my son forgiving me. And we all know how big a pile of shit that is. How is it that no one thinks that variations in the goddamn sun might have something to do with how warm our planet is?”
“Keep your hopes up.” And keep your ridiculous conspiracy theories to yourself. I didn’t think there were any climate change deniers outside of 2180.
Qwiz made a face and vehemently shook his head, evidently she made a good decision not to vocalize her thoughts.
A few minutes later a well-dressed young man with flowing blond hair walked across the grass from the parking lot. He stood out like a sore thumb among the shabby suburbians. Tanya recognized him as the reporter who had done the initial story on Luthor’s apartment. She didn’t know how she felt about turning to him for help. Bill ducked behind the tree out of sight.
“Are you Dr. Tenrel?” he asked.
Luthor nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Tanya blurted. “You’re the one who originally reported Luthor as a terrorist.”
William raised his hands as if that would make it all better. “Yes I did, but I’m here now, still willing to meet with you. That should tell you how much I buy into the stories I’m given. I just read the words on the page, I don’t have to believe them.”
Tanya remained unpersuaded, but Bill jumped out from behind the tree before she could respond. “You can trust him. He’s as legit as my pecker.”
William raked his hands through his hair, “Smog-it. I swear Stone, if this is just another one of your elaborate ploys, I’m leaving. You did not tell me you would be here.”
Luthor looked desperate as he held up his hand. “Please don’t go, I believe you. I swear this will be worth your time.”
“Frankly, I’m already risking my life to meet with a wanted terrorist. If I have to put up with his bullshit too, I’m gone.”
“Son,” Bill blurted, “will you just give me a chance, just one damn time?”
“Sorry, Stone, I am a reporter now. We report on news, not asinine conspiracy theories. Has he told you about his alien abduction yet?”
“It really happened! I woke up in the middle of a field with burn marks on my—”
William laughed derisively, interrupting his father. “Have you told them your theory about how climate change is a giant government plot to control the masses?”
“Goddamn it! That isn’t a theory! How can you not see—”
“And you expect me to sit here and listen to what you’re saying?” William stopped shouting and turned politely to Luthor. “I am sorry, Dr. Tenrel, you might have been framed for that bombing, maybe not. But I can’t deal with this. And yes at least I keep my word; I won’t turn you in.”
Luthor held up a hand. “Please don’t leave before you see a demonstration. If this research doesn’t get out, we will all probably be dead within the week.”
“I will give you the name of another reporter. I just can’t be the one to deal with scum like Stone.”
“William, please!” Bill pleaded. “I give up. I won’t say anything if only you will just stay and talk with us.”
“Sorry, but they don’t pay me enough to put up with drunken, lying, sons of bitches who leave their families for dead.”
“You got that right. I doubt any amount of money would be enough to cover what I did to you.”
William did a double-take.
Stone continued. “You’re right about what I was! That’s why I left.”
William’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing.
“I have tried to tell you this a hundred times, son, but you would never listen. I left because I didn’t want to hurt you or your mother. My sanity was shot to hell coming home from the war. I only wanted to do two things: drink and beat the shit out of something. I didn’t want that to be either of you. So, I left.”
“You took all of your pension. We had nothing.”
“You would have traded your safety for a new Lidius Phone? Material things aren’t worth dick if you ain’t safe William, I of all people, know that.”
“Well having a place to live and enough food to eat would have been nice too.”
“Get it out, say what you need to say, I deserve it.”
“You’re just lucky that the Culling didn’t happen before I had enough money to be able to support mom. Not that it mattered anyway, she still died. Goddamn pneumonia, nobody had antibiotics with the rationing.”
“Son, I’m so sorry. I made the best choice I knew how to make. I didn’t want you to turn out like me.”
“Damn you.”
Bill didn’t respond, just maintained an open posture, receptive to whatever beating his son fit to throw at him.
“Damn you for trying to rob me of my hatred for you.”
“You don’t have to stop hating me. You don’t have to change anything, I just want you to understand. And know that I’m sorry.”
William turned back. “I promise nothing. I will only listen if he keeps his mouth shut.”
True to his word, Bill said nothing. Not a single curse throughout their recount of their time since Geneva, nor whisper of conspiracy.
William was understandably skeptical about 126’s properties. But the demonstration quickly changed that. Luthor was careful not to do anything too dramatic with 126 that a circle of people couldn’t obscure from prying eyes. But a floating stick, combined with a strange feeling of down was pretty convincing. It didn’t take long before the young reporter was chomping at the bit to broadcast everything. The excitement of telling their tale seemed to have overridden his anger at his father. Any hesitation he felt over being with a supposed terrorist had evaporated as well.
“I’m telling you, my producer is going to love this idea. She has been around long enough, that she knows when to let a reporter run with a story.”
“You think this is really going to work?”
“Are you kidding me? This is the single biggest story—I mean globally—since the end of the war. Think of the headlines, instead of things like “WAR ENDED” we could have something like “ENERGY CRISIS ENDED.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too; breaking the story of the decade is generally good for one’s career in the news business. I also have the personal touch of being the one to break the story on Tenrel’s apartment. If this goes like it should, I might even have to give him another chance not to be a dumbass.”
“Stone struggles with that, so don’t get your hopes too high.” Qwiz said.
“Was that sarcasm I just heard?” Stone clapped Qwiz on the back, “damn fine job boy, you're learning!”
“Everyone calls you that now?” William asked.
Stone blushed. “That’s another thing I didn’t tell you. After I left, I told people to call me my army nickname. I didn’t want there to be a warm fart’s chance in Anti that people would connect you with me, I thought it might hurt your career. Bill Jr. might lead to questions about who Sr. was.”
William didn’t say anything, but for the first time he didn’t look quite so harshly at the man.
Luthor continued, “you should know that this is
dangerous information.”
“I gathered that from the murders, explosions and general destruction that has followed you across the Atlantic. And the fact that it is completely illegal for me to be meeting with you right now.”
“Do not underestimate our enemies,” Vika said.
“Or us,” Michael said brightly, “bad guys tend to die when we’re around.”
Vika gave him a withering eyebrow, “you mean when I’m around.” She turned back to William. “Tell no one about this, not even your producer, if possible.”
“Sorry, producers have to give the thumbs-up to any story. No way around that one.”
“Then watch your back.”
“Believe it or not, I know how to take care of myself. I’ve had some nasty dirt on politicians and massive corporations before and stayed safe. Don’t worry. I got this.”
“I could come along and scare them off,” Bill said.
“I think stealth is a better defense than bad breath Dad, but thanks for the offer.”
Bill’s white hair swayed with belly laughter. Tanya realized it was the first time William had used a father-pronoun since he’d arrived.
William continued, “I think there is a great chance we can have this up on the evening news tomorrow night.”
Luthor handed him a memory stick. “Here is a copy of our research data, complete with the synthesis method. Above all else, that must get out. 126 is worthless if no one knows how to make it.”
William shook hands with Luthor, Michael, the women, and then to Tanya’s surprise, Bill’s hand as well.
“This is awkward, but, thanks Dad. Thanks for the chance to do this story.”
“I’m glad I can do something right in my life.”
William smiled. “I will contact my producer immediately, and just as a heads-up, she will probably want to do a live interview.”
Vika shook her head. “Not safe. You never know where they will have planted bugs.”
“There is a secret location the station has set up to do high-risk interviews. If we do it from there, we can remotely broadcast a full interview with only her and me. No cameramen, sound techs or anything. You will be safe.”
“That sounds good,” Luthor said, “when and where?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that until I get the go-ahead.”
#
They waited for William’s call the rest of the evening at Bill’s apartment. He finally called a few minutes before midnight and gave them directions to a very poor area southwest of downtown. He instructed them to meet at 1:00 pm the next day so it could be edited in time for the evening news.
As they left, Vika handed each of them a pistol. Luthor had the good sense not to ask where she had found them. All he knew was that she had gone out the night before and came back with enough pistols for everyone. Luthor, in turn, insisted that each of them wear some 126. Thankfully, Qwiz had saved all the 126 from his old apartment which meant they had plenty despite the beads they had lost in New York.
The warm day meant the solar panels on Bill’s truck had managed to charge the battery. Luthor sat in the bed while they circumnavigated Chicago. The formerly labeled Willis Tower— its name had been auctioned off so often that no one kept track of it any more—rose prominently in the distance. It remained the tallest structure in the city by law, if only by five meters. Its baroque features were outshined by other, more modern buildings whose exteriors glittered with photovoltaic cells and whose roofs buzzed with wind turbines and crops. Some had entire floors in the middle of their steel lattices devoted to rotating turbines.
Chicago had been one of the few Midwestern cities to prosper in the midst of the scarcity of the modern world. It was ideally placed around a network of rail systems, fertile farm land, and water transport. It also had a pre-existing system of nuclear power plants combined with high yield wind farms and an effective mass transportation system to move people around. There were even many of the suburbs that hadn’t completely eroded into chaos, which was why Fermilab still existed and why Luthor had been able to pursue an experiment as energy-intensive as new element creation.
They hopped out of the truck in a section of the city that had once housed Chicago’s Midway airport—not that anything flew anymore. The terminal itself had been converted into housing with the open airstrips now dense gardens for the residents. Outside the airport, the slums had descended into a disgusting level of disrepair. Windows were rare, roofs had been cobbled together with rusty sheet-metal or plywood, and bullet-holes seemed to be the decoration of choice. The two and three-story apartments housed some of the more notorious gangs in the city along with hundreds of thousands of Markless, homeless, and suburban refugees. Bill’s truck was the only automobile they had seen in several kilometers.
Luthor was certain they’d come to the wrong place until William’s smiling face popped out of the front door of a cracked, brick apartment. He waved them inside.
They dodged piles of refuse and ignored the Markless on the street corner begging for food. The rickety wooden door squeaked loudly as it opened. The door was a farce. Affixed to the inside of the moldy wood was a 2 cm thick steel door. William shut it behind them, locking enough deadbolts to stop a missile.
“Sorry for that, in this community, we need a lot of extra security to maintain a place like this.”
Luthor instantly realized the need for such security. Polished wood floors covered the ground, adorned by intermittent plush carpets. A room to his right housed thick-cushioned couches, a pool table and a large TV. A powder room lined with well-lit mirrors flanked it. The windows which had appeared cracked from the outside, were lined with metal bars and had another layer of security glass inside. They followed William upstairs where the equipment to run an entire broadcast was installed. Computers, mixing boards, and a server rack greeted them. He led them to a smaller room with a green screen and a sophisticated camera. More armored windows covered the walls and a sturdy access hatch was mounted in the ceiling.
“William, I think you have outdone yourself,” Michael said, clearly in awe of the facility.
“Don’t think I put this together,” he said quickly. “Remember, we are well-funded by the government,” he opened a small refrigerator with a grin. “Care for a beverage?” Not one of them would pass up a luxury like a soda.
“I don’t suppose you have a mountain dew?” Qwiz asked tentatively.
“Sorry, but no. The government only owns shares of Coke,” Qwiz humbly accepted a Sprite instead, lament on his face as he sipped the carbonated concoction sans caffeine.
“Why put such a high-tech place in the middle of the ghetto?” Bill asked.
“Remember the Chinese defector from a few years back? The USNN constructed this as an offsite location to film the interview. It was supposed to keep him safe from the Chinese government and snipers or something. Apparently, money was no object.”
“Damn, I’ll say,” said Michael, admiring the mixing board.
“They put it in this neighborhood so it would be impossible to find,” William looked at his watch, “have a seat, when my producer gets here we can get started.” He scrunched his eyebrows, “actually, I thought she would be here already.”
They all sat down in comfortable chairs of the type seen in interviews. “Why would she be late?”
“I don’t know; it is possible she got lost. She’s probably never been here before. Not a lot of people even know this place exists.”
Vika raised an eyebrow. “How many exactly?”
“I don’t know. The producers and executives mostly, and a few of the field reporters like me who have actually filmed here. Why?”
Vika’s hand hovered over her pistol. “How does someone find out about it?”
William glanced at the weapon. “You only find out if you do a story here. The producers just have to submit a request to film here with their team.
“You’re telling me that your producer had to get permission to come here?”
“Of course. They aren’t going to let just anyone walk in.”
Vika cursed in French, or maybe Russian. Luthor couldn’t tell. “Your producer is late because she is probably dead.”
William did a double-take. “What? I just talked—”
“Agent Veronika is right. I killed her myself,” said a cold, accented voice from the doorway.
Before Luthor could process the significance of the mysterious man who knew Vika’s name, she had already reacted. She fired her pistol in a rapid burst. Shots streamed toward the intruder, blurring the line between semi and fully automatic. The man ducked his head behind the doorway. Most of the bullets connected with the wooden frame, two struck his thick gelvar body armor, which shunted their impact in ripples around his body. He laughed from behind the door.
Suddenly, the security windows and ceiling hatch mechanically snapped open and men in full shock gear poured in via ropes. Luthor jumped behind the chair and managed to get several rounds off. He heard gunfire from Bill as well.
“Put your weapons down,” said the accented man, “you are surrounded. Don’t make me kill you all. It would make my job more… annoying.”
To Luthor’s surprise, Vika raised her hands above her head and dropped her gun, “don’t be stupid, Tenrel,” she said. Luthor found himself also raising his hands, his gun falling to the floor. They leveled their sub-machine guns at him while one of them snatched the discarded pistols and dropped them out the window.
“Better,” said the man, “now, the rest of you.” One by one, each of them were stripped of their side arms.
Qwiz boldly refused to give up his gun. “I know your voice,” he said, eyes narrowing even more than was typical for a man of his heritage.
“Excellent,” the man walked forward and kicked Qwiz hard in the gut.
Qwiz doubled over and the man slammed the butt of his assault rifle into his back. Qwiz cried out in pain and crashed to the floor. The man sneered over his prominent nose as Qwiz writhed. His greying hair and bushy eyebrows obscured his black eyes.
Hurt, but not yet broken, Qwiz looked up from the ground. “You’re the one who was behind this all along!”
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