Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  “The parents were killed.”

  “Yes. And the child put in the foster system. Our program was shuttered, and Coalition Properties chose not to track him after that.”

  “You’ve heard about what he can do?”

  “Yes. And I just wanted to say—”

  “Mr. Smith says you know how it is that he can do what he can do. Tell me how.”

  “Well, it’s just a theory and we’d have to run several tests. But it goes back to my original ideas on—”

  “Just tell me how.”

  Kirby pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and padded his forehead. He realized that his armpits were soaked. He knew if he was going to pitch his ideas to the CEO, it would start with this.

  “From what Mr. Smith has shared with me and what he has allowed me to review in the reports, Alex Luthecker can read patterns in organic systems at an uncanny level, in particular within the biology and behavior of people to the degree that he can accurately predict outcomes with extreme specificity, to the point of end dates and exact behavior. Something like this is quite extraordinary, akin to the next level of human evolution. In order for him to do this, it requires much more than photographic memory. It requires super memory. Now, as it currently stands, we only understand less than five percent of human DNA. That five percent maps out our functions, all of what we know to be who we are as human beings. The other, roughly ninety-five percent, has long been considered “junk DNA.” We’re beginning to discover that that is not the case. Not by a long shot.”

  “What is it?”

  “Memory; massive amounts of memory. And when I say memory, I mean data storage capacity like RAM in a computer. Remember, DNA is comprised mostly of “on” and “off” switches. Which is exactly how transistor-based memory systems work.”

  “How much memory?”

  “The junk DNA in the fingernail of your pinky has the potential to store more information than the entirety of the Library of Congress.”

  Howe sat back in his chair.

  “I think, and I don’t know exactly how just yet, that when I switched out the DNA sequence in Alex Luthecker to reduce his chance of developing autism, I somehow activated an ability for him to access all of that genetic memory capacity. Do you understand what that means?”

  “It means he’s like a super computer?”

  “That’s just the beginning. It’s far more than that. Because you have to understand, it’s not just mechanical; it’s memory tied to biology; biology that goes back to the beginning of the DNA. It’s genetic history that could potentially go countless generations back. Genetic memory patterns passed down from parents and grandparents and great grandparents, to who knows how far back, and all of it influencing the next generation. Maybe even to before man was…even man.”

  “You’re losing me.”

  Kirby’s heart sank, and he started to feel faint from nervousness. He organized his thoughts and consciously slowed the pace of his words.“We are just beginning to discover that the atoms that make up the human body, the smallest and most basic elemental building blocks of our existence, not just in Alex Luthecker but in each and every one of us, can be traced back to the origins of the universe; literally to the very stars themselves. In other words, the history of the universe is in each and every one of us, at an atomic level; and in turn, we in it. Don’t you see?”

  Kirby saw Howe’s eyes beginning to glaze over. He moved to the edge of his seat before he continued. “How does this fit together you ask? Well, pattern recognition is based on finding reoccurring events or data points that have occurred in the past and using that fixed data to formulate future outcomes. The future, oddly enough, as we are beginning to realize, is something that may or may not exist already. So, if you connect the two theories, access to massive historical memory to the beginning of the universe, and someone who can observe it all, including the future, the question is how much can Alex Luthecker actually see? If I’m correct, he could potentially connect everything. He could help unravel all the mysteries of the universe. It was Wittgenstein who said, ‘We don’t really ever discover anything. We just remember it.’ Well, I think that Alex Luthecker could prove that theory and beyond, and if I could just study him, work with him, we could—”

  “Would you like some water, Doctor Kirby?” Howe interrupted.

  It was then that Kirby realized he was completely soaked in sweat. And that Howe’s interest was long gone.

  “No, sir, I’m good thank you. I know this sounds confusing, but I just wanted to—”

  “Thank you very much, Doctor Kirby, you’ve been a great help. You are a tremendous asset to the Coalition team,” Howe said, the tone of his voice indicating dismissal. “Now if you could excuse Mr. Smith and myself, we’d like to discuss what you’ve shared with us, and if we need your further assistance, we will reach out to you.”

  I fucking blew it, Kirby told himself. He slowly got to his feet. He stood there a moment, thinking that Howe would get to his feet and see him out, or at the very least shake his hand. He was further disappointed when the Coalition Properties’ CEO didn’t move.

  “Thank you, Mark,” Collin added, as a final nudge toward the door.

  “You’re welcome,” Kirby muttered just above a whisper, defeated, before he slowly moved toward the exit.

  As he approached the door, Kirby felt his anger rising. It’s the same story, he thought. It was the same pattern of dismissal all over again. All of his efforts, all of his intelligence, once again ignored, like it always had been. Once again, he was being disrespected.

  Kirby slowed to a stop. Not this time, he decided. He turned back toward Howe and Smith. “Allow me to finish,” Kirby began. The contempt was palpable in his voice.

  Howe and Smith looked at Kirby.

  “There have been five mass extinction events in the history of this planet. The Ordovician-Silurian event, the Late Devonian event, the Permian-Triassic event, the Triassic-Jurassic event, and the Cretaceous-Paleogene event. Each time, nearly all living species that existed were wiped out.” Kirby wiped sweat from his brow. He was no longer self conscious of it. He no longer cared. “We are now in the beginning stages of the sixth mass extinction event. Just look around you. The sustaining properties of the planet are being systematically destroyed, and apex species are disappearing from existence faster than we can count. Many people are going to die. Many people will have to die—before the next phase of life on this planet, the next step in human evolution can begin. Alex Luthecker is that next step. He is the very key to our species’ survival. And I’m truly sorry that you gentlemen can’t see that.” Kirby abruptly wheeled about and left the office, slamming the door closed behind him.

  Several seconds passed before Howe looked at Smith.

  “What was that about?” Howe asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s completely crazy.”

  “He does have a bit of a glandular issue it seems, and despite his bizarre outburst at the end, his work in genetics and DNA analysis is very respected among his peers. And the facts are the facts James—he genetically modified the embryo that eventually became the young man we now know as Alex Luthecker.”

  Howe turned to Smith. “So what.”

  “So what? How can you say that? You heard how enormous this could be.”

  “You can’t honestly say you believe any of that nonsense. He’s been locked in a laboratory too long.”

  “And yet you’re afraid of Luthecker.”

  “No. That is where you and the rest of the board are mistaken. I’m not afraid of him at all. I simply know the difference between risk and chance, and I will not take a chance on something that could only serve to upset everything I know and everything that we have all spent our entire lives working very hard for, all because of some sort of metaphysical whim. I don’t see Alex Luthecker as anything other than political fodder brought into play by my paranoid and obsessed predecessor, an escaped lab experiment that only serves to
distract us from our core business.”

  “So you’re still going to have him killed.”

  Howe rattled his fingers on the armrest of his chair and took a deep breath.“What I am going to do is close the biggest deal that this company has ever seen.”

  “With a notorious arms and drug dealer.”

  “We will have access and control over the entire underground economy. And we can enforce that control by being the largest military contractor in the world. No opportunity like this has ever happened in the history of mankind. No corporate entity, no nation state, will dare defy us. We will rule the world in a way that’s never been contemplated before.”

  “The public will never embrace someone like Lucas Parks.”

  “They’ll embrace whatever we want them to embrace. We control the spin. We always have. How did McKinnley aircraft, just a small private plane manufacturer, become Coalition Properties, the largest corporate entity in the history of man? By building war machines at an alarming rate in order to kill people at an even more alarming rate. And we sold it as patriotism. And everyone bought it. And the country is far better off for it.”

  Howe looked at Collin Smith. “Deep down, everyone understands.”

  “And if you fail?”

  “I won’t.”

  Smith grunted and used his cane to leverage himself to his feet. I think you’re making a mistake,” the elder board member said, as he made his way to the door.

  “No. I’m not. You’ll see.”

  Smith didn’t reply, didn’t look back, as he exited Howe’s office.

  29

  Propositions

  Lucas Parks stood on the balcony of his private chambers in Hoptx Ctapt castle and looked out over the city of Tiraspol. The twinkling lights were just over a mile to the north, and his view of the Dniester River on the west extended beyond the far riverbanks to Moldova when the night sky was clear. The land of Moldova and Trans Dniester, including the city of Tiraspol, had a rhythm to them that transcended politically-enforced borders. And under the full moon, Parks found himself sensitive to the vibrations. Centuries of history and bloodshed had become palpable to him as of late, and the Moldovan countryside, along with neighboring Ukraine and Russia, had spilled more than its share. Even Hoptx Ctapt castle, his home, had ghosts, countless cycles of life and death that resided within its stone walls. Many kings had walked through these corridors, had rested in the very bedchamber Parks now claimed as his own. For a fleeting moment, Parks wondered where and how history would judge his place among them.

  He checked his watch. It was 2am, twenty-four hours since Nicole Ellis’ escape, and his men had yet to find her. Parks had given the order to tear the city apart if necessary, and word would soon reach every storekeeper, hotel owner, businessman, every individual under his influence. He had also made it very clear that he wanted her alive if possible; at least until he said otherwise.

  Parks breathed in the cool nighttime air before he turned away from the balcony and walked into his room. A large cavernous fireplace carved into the east wall, centuries ago, roared with flame. A sizable leather couch sat at a comfortable distance across from the fire, and Parks began to make his way toward it when the cell phone in his pocket rattled. He pulled it free and he checked the caller ID. It was James Howe.

  “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

  “Is Alex Luthecker dead?” Howe asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have him in captivity. I thought it prudent that we discuss his fate beforehand.”

  “You think you have leverage. You have none. Now kill him so we can move on to other business.”

  “I’ve seen his handiwork first hand. I was very impressed. Perhaps you are being a bit too hasty in your judgment. If controlled properly, he could prove to be a tremendous asset to both of us.”

  There was a silence on the other end of the line. Parks waited.

  “You spoke with him,” Howe stated instead of asking.

  There was apprehension in the question. Parks saw it as an opening. “Are you afraid he’s driven me mad? Convinced me to join his cause? Or better yet, do you think he’s told me how this all ends and, therefore, forever altered my destiny?”

  “I don’t care if Luthecker has driven you stark-raving mad or shown you true

  religion,” Howe responded. “And I can tell you how it ends for you, should you make the mistake of rejecting my proposition. It is a plan that I believe will benefit us both and set the table for a new world order. Alex Luthecker is only a small political issue internal to Coalition Properties, one that presents more problems than it solves, and your seat at the table in the legitimate world depends on you taking care of this problem for me and then accepting my offer. Now are you willing to hear what I have so say, or should I simply order the drone strike now?”

  It was Parks turn to pause. “Tell me what it is you want,” he finally answered.

  Alex Luthecker paced in his cell. Parks had had the Narcozep drip removed immediately after his last visit with Alex, and had the medications replaced with a combination of stimulants and saline solution that nullified the drug’s effects and flushed them from Alex’s system. He had been left with an ample supply of food and water to regain his strength, and Alex had indulged. His head was beginning to clear, and the elements of his memory that had been dulled by the powerful Benzodiazepine dopant were beginning to come into focus. Alex realized that Parks had done this, had planned this all along, because Parks would want Alex’s help. He heard footsteps approaching, and turned toward his cell entrance. It was Parks, and he was alone.

  “How are you feeling?” Parks asked, as he stepped inside Alex’s cell. Alex noticed that Parks did not lock the cell door behind him.

  “You still haven’t found her yet?” Alex replied.

  Parks held up his hands in mock surrender. “That is correct. But if you’re as good as they say you are, with just one look at me, you should see that she doesn’t matter to me right now; you do. With one look, you should know that I’ve given strict orders that she not be harmed or killed—at least for the moment. And with your abilities, I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.”

  Alex said nothing.

  Parks tried to look in Alex’s eyes. Tried to get Alex to see what he was thinking.

  Alex turned away.

  “Go ahead,” Parks challenged. “Try and break me down. Like you did the others. Tell me what monsters haunt me in the night?”

  “You explained yourself well enough when you spoke to me last,” Alex responded, without turning back to Parks.

  “That was just a primer. And it wouldn’t be fair of me to not to give you your turn, now that your head is clear. So come on. Don’t be shy. Have at it. Tell me how it all ends for me.”

  Alex finally turned and faced Parks, and, for the first time since he left Los Angeles, Alex Luthecker tried to see.

  “Wow,” Parks said in reaction, to Luthecker’s eyes, as they moved in REM-like fashion, reading Parks’ every pattern of being with ravenous intent. Parks instinctively stepped back. He felt like he had just been X-rayed.

  To Luthecker, it felt good to see again.“You think you’re not afraid of how it all ends for you. You believe that I pose no threat to you, as long as I am physically contained,” Alex finally responded.

  “That was a nice trick with the eyes. But you sound like a Tarot card reader. Stop playing games. You convinced David Two-Good to sacrifice his life in order for your girlfriend to escape, and to be frank I can use that kind of power. I think you and I could make an unstoppable team. But in order for you to consider that, you need to know everything about me, which for you only takes one look. Now give me your best.”

  “You’re here now because you believe in the world order as it currently stands. You’d prefer if things stayed exactly as they are. Any talk of a “new world order” threatens what you’ve built.”

  “Now you’re wasting time;
something that neither of us can afford. Maybe I can speed things up a bit.” Parks reached around his back for something in his waistband.

  “Your weapon of choice is a KA-BAR 1280 Combat Kukri blade.”

  Parks stopped.

  “A high-carbon, non-reflective black blade. Originally used as a small machete, you discovered its versatility beyond clearing fields during your first visit to Columbia, when you tried it out on a local poppy farmer’s throat, simply because you were curious. You were impressed with how easy it slid through muscle and tendon. More important to you than the knife, however, was that when the man’s ten-year old son cried in horror, you were unmoved in any way. It surprised you, your total lack of empathy. Up until that point, you had always wondered what your inability to connect with others meant, but at that precise moment, you provided your own meaning—it meant to you that you would never hesitate in life; that you understood yourself completely, and that nothing or no one could stop you. Since then, you’ve killed seventeen men with that very blade. Part of you wonders how many people that blade will kill before it leaves your hands and finds another owner. But there’s something else. Deep inside you, there’s a longing for more. It’s not hope, because you don’t believe in it, but something else, something that you can’t quite identify that mystifies you. Let me tell you what it is: a final curiosity. One that you won’t admit to yourself; that just once, maybe, the ending of someone’s life will make you feel something.”

  Parks broke out into a big grin as he pulled the 81/2-inch KA-BAR 1280 from his waistband and held it up for Luthecker to see. “That’s much better.” He slowly approached Luthecker with the blade.

  “And though at times you’re tempted, you’re not going to use it on me. Not yet, because you need me. And there is a sense of urgency with this, because someone threatens to take all that you believe is yours. And after what you’ve seen me do, you think I can help you stop him.”