by John Purcell
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Geff was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. As we reached the curb, he said, “How’d it go?”
I said, “Cassius disappeared. I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon.”
Geff seemed to take it in stride. “Oh well, another disappointing day for the trailer folk.”
I turned to the Three. “We should sit down.”
We all joined Moto in the lounge area. Luma and Dogan took the sofa, Bim and I took armchairs.
I spoke quietly. “Cassius gave us an anagram and I have to decipher it. It should only take a minute.”
They settled into their seats.
A tear felt queasy.
It was only fifteen letters, but I hoped to avoid sorting through all possible combinations. The presence of Q and U was a big help, and there were only two other vowels, A and E. This limited the number of possible QU words. I set the word SQUARE aside and studied the remaining letters.
Since everything in Washington, DC, seemed to be named after someone famous, I searched the nine remaining letters for proper names. This sped up the process, and 23 seconds later I had an answer: LAFAYETTE.
Cassius wanted us to meet him in Lafayette Square, just north of the White House. It all made perfect sense, except for one thing: there was absolutely no reason for Cassius to be anywhere near Washington, DC.
I looked up to find the Three watching me. Luma’s expression was troubled. Dogan still seemed angry. Bim just looked curious.
I didn’t want to speak in front of Geff. I stood up abruptly, saying, “Come on, we have to get back to the White House.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and started across the Mall at a brisk walk.
Luma caught up with me first. “Teo, wait! What is going on?”
I kept walking. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
As we hurried along the Reflecting Pool, Dogan caught up. He was almost shouting. “This is stupid! Are we trying to find my dad, or what?”
I said, “Hang on. We’re going to sit down and talk this over.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Bim and Moto were coming up behind us.
The World War Two Memorial was just up ahead. In my father’s memory, the centerpiece was an elaborate oval fountain with twin geysers. Now, like the Reflecting Pool, it was bone dry. I led everyone through the Pacific archway to the fountain’s edge, and we sat down in a row.
I said, “I understand how confusing this is. I don’t know what to make of it, either. All I know is that I need to see Cassius’s face—his real face—when he makes these claims.”
Dogan said, “Like that crap about boiling oceans!”
“Actually, I think that might be true.” I turned to Bim. “What have you heard?”
“Everyone knows the smog cloud is heating up the planet. It just isn’t clear how quickly.”
I repeated Bim’s words.
Luma spoke softly. “But if that part’s true maybe the rest is, too. We can’t just sit back and let them destroy the world.”
Dogan said, “I don’t care about any of that! I just want to find my dad and Cassius is giving us the runaround!”
I said, “Maybe so, but right now he’s waiting for us in Lafayette Square. Coming out of hiding is a tremendous risk. Are you saying you don’t want to meet him?”
“I want to meet him, all right! I’ll make him tell me where my dad is!”
Luma shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, grow up!”
I said, “Dogan, you can’t attack him. In fact, if you come along, you’re not even allowed to speak. I’ll do all the talking.”
Luma was taken aback. “Of course he’s coming along! We stick together!”
I turned to her. “Fair enough, but you’ll have to keep quiet, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Other people might be eavesdropping on us. We can’t say a single word that might reveal who he really is.”
Luma shrugged. “Whatever you say…”
I turned to Bim. “Do you have anything to add?”
“I just hope Luma and Dogan realize how extraordinary this is. To my knowledge, Cassius has never revealed his identity to anyone.”
I repeated Bim’s words.
Luma looked suitably impressed.
Dogan gave me the raspberry.
I led the Three out through the Atlantic archway and over to 17th Street, heading north. Moto needed to stretch her legs, so I explained where we were going and told her to meet us there. She raced off southward.
No one spoke as we made our way to Lafayette Square. I suspected Dogan was giving me the silent treatment. Luma seemed lost in thought, and even Bim looked pensive.
As we walked east along Pennsylvania Ave., I could see that Andrew Jackson’s statue had been removed from the center of the park. Presumably, he and his rearing stallion were now residing up at the archway. All that was left on the enormous pedestal were two rear hooves.
We entered Lafayette Square. The green shade trees and shrubs of my father’s memory had been replaced with wild blue underbrush, and the walkways were thick with moss. There wasn’t a soul to be seen anywhere.
We followed a path that curved around Jackson’s pedestal and there he was, the real Cassius, waiting for us on a bench, dressed in the same frock coat he’d been wearing in the Ruins. He raised his cane, waving to us.
It was Gutenberg.
As we drew near, he smiled. “Hello, Teo, how nice to see you again.”
I said, “It’s nice to see you, too, Mr. Gutenberg. These are my friends, Luma, Bim and Dogan.”
He nodded to the Three. “Good morning, children.”
Bim nodded in return. Luma gave a little curtsey. Dogan just sneered.
I sat down next to Gutenberg and the Three lined up on an adjacent bench.
I said, “Do you know where Dogan’s father really is?”
Gutenberg nodded. “He’s been working in the farmlands ever since they sent him up.”
“The farmlands are huge. Do you have a specific location?”
“They rotate workers constantly, but I know his serial number. I can certainly find out where he is at present. I might even be able to tell you where they’re sending him next.”
I was watching his eyes as he answered my questions. Something about them wasn’t right.
I said, “How quickly do you believe the Earth is heating up?”
“Even the GR is being optimistic. They say thirty years until the oceans boil. My guess is twenty.”
“If the GR knows what the smog cloud is doing, why don’t they stop pumping it into orbit?”
“If they pumped it into the atmosphere, the air would become unbreathable. Not only that, the Earth would keep heating up, anyway.”
“Then why don’t they just shut down the Arctic power plants altogether?“
Gutenberg gave me a rueful smile. “Forgive me, Teo, but your question is a bit naïve. The GR rules the planet. That takes tanks and drones and helicopters and jets and ships and the fuel that moves them and the factories that produce them. They need factories to produce weapons and ammunition and basic supplies. They have to power thousands of Domes. They have to power the tractors that plow the fields and the combines that harvest the crops and the trains that transport the food. They even have to power the oilrigs that extract the oil that powers the oilrigs! They can’t stop!”
“What other choice do they have?”
“They can just keep on playing dumb. After all, no one in the Domes knows anything is amiss. By the time they find out, it won’t matter, and the leadership will have transformed themselves.”
“They’re counting on someone replicating the TEO.”
Gutenberg nodded. “They’re planning on bailing out of their own bodies, and the sooner the better.”
&
nbsp; I still couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong with Gutenberg’s eyes. Whatever it was made them difficult to read, more difficult, even, than the hologram.
I said, “How can any one person, or group of persons, bring down the GR, worldwide? It’s impossible.”
Gutenberg shifted in his seat, transferring his cane from one hand to the other. “Suppose I were to tell you that there exists a room designed precisely for that purpose?”
“A room?”
“More accurately, a complex of rooms.”
“Where?”
Gutenberg raised his eyebrows. “Therein lies the mystery.”
“What makes you think such a place exists?”
“Joseph Clay helped redesign President Timberlake’s underground control complex.”
“The one Trip Savage retreated to.”
Gutenberg shook his head. “No. Not the one he retreated to. That one was just a decoy.”
“You mean they built a second complex, in a different location.”
“It wouldn’t have been hard to do. At the time, the Washington Metro was undergoing renovations, which provided them the cover they needed. That’s an established fact. A team of government contractors blended in with the Metro crews and constructed the first complex. After the renovations were complete, rumors began circulating that they’d built a second complex, as well. No one had any proof, though, and the rumors gradually died away.”
“Do you have proof?”
“None whatsoever. It’s my fervent hope that you, Teo, will provide the proof.”
“How can I possibly do that?”
“Finding that room and bringing down the GR is your destiny, the purpose for which you were built. Joseph Clay must have left clues to guide you there. Do you have any memories of the construction process, or the finished complexes?”
Just then, Moto rounded the pedestal and came bounding toward us. When she saw Gutenberg, she stopped short, skidding to a halt on the mossy walkway. She continued on at a walk and approached him cautiously.
I said, “Moto, you remember Mr. Gutenberg. We met him the other night in the Ruins.”
She sniffed at his ankles and gave me a doubtful look.
I called her over and told her to sit. She obeyed my command reluctantly, her eyes fixed on Gutenberg.
I turned back to him. “You were saying…?”
“I was asking you if you had any memories of either complex.”
Moto sprang, clamping her jaws onto Gutenberg’s cane and yanking it from his grasp. She ran off with it in her mouth.
Gutenberg looked after her in shock. His face flickered and vanished, revealing another face beneath. It was instantly recognizable, even without the rimless spectacles.
I was staring at Mr. Wu.
He immediately buried his face in the crook of his arm, saying, “Teo, please! Tell her to bring it back! I cannot afford to show my face here!”
For a moment, I was too surprised to do anything at all.
Mr. Wu’s voice was muffled. “Teo, I am asking you as a friend! Just get my cane back and I’ll explain everything!”
Moto hadn’t gone far. I called to her. “All right, Moto, bring back the cane.”
This puzzled her. She didn’t move.
“Good work, Moto, you did the right thing, but now you have to return it.”
She walked back to Mr. Wu and dropped the cane at his feet. He leaned down to retrieve it. The moment his hand touched it, Gutenberg’s face reappeared over his own.
The Three had been stunned by this turn of events, but now Dogan jumped to his feet. He cried, “That does it!” and charged at Mr. Wu.
I had to throw myself in his path and lock him in a bear hug. Lifting him off the ground, I carried him back to his seat and plunked him down.
I said, “I know you’re upset, but you still can’t attack him.” I turned to Mr. Wu. “Take us someplace where we can speak openly. No stalling and no tricks.”
Mr. Wu stood up. “Very well. Follow me.”
We exited Lafayette Square at the northwest corner, angled up Connecticut Ave., and turned left on I Street. Just before we reached 17th Street, Mr. Wu stopped in front of a nondescript opening in the side of the building.
“This is the old Farragut West Metro Station. When we get to the bottom of the escalator, I’ll be more than happy to take off my disguise. Then we’ll clear up this misunderstanding.”
I said, “Fine, but I go first.”
“Agreed.”
I stepped into the shadows and peered down the escalator. Its motionless steps were strewn with trash and seemed to go on forever, disappearing into blackness.
Mr. Wu’s voice came from behind. “The moss doesn’t do well in here. May I turn on a Glorb?”
I nodded. A moment later, gentle light surrounded us. I led the way down.
If Mr. Wu was planning an escape, he didn’t try it. We reached the platform without incident. True to his word, he twisted the handle of his cane and Gutenberg’s face disappeared. He said, “Why don’t we all sit down?”
Tracks ran down the center of the station, dividing the platform in half. High overhead, I could just make out the arched ceiling.
Mr. Wu led us across the platform to a row of metal benches fixed to the wall. He sat down. The four of us remained standing, instinctively forming a semicircle around him. Moto sat at our feet, ready for trouble.
Fishing his spectacles from the pocket of his frock coat, he put them on and studied our faces, unperturbed. “First of all, make no mistake: I am the real Cassius, as you will soon come to understand. But believe me when I tell you that I never intended to deceive you. You have to realize that I absolutely cannot be seen anywhere Outside, least of all here. If I were to be associated with Washington, DC, or Cassius, in any way, no matter how trivial, it could destroy everything we’ve built.”
Dogan’s tone was sarcastic. “So you got some gizmo to change your face and tried to fool us again.”
Mr. Wu shook his head. “I had every intention of revealing my true identity. Unfortunately, Moto beat me to it. As for the gizmo, circumstances force me to travel to DC from time to time. I always appear here as Gutenberg, with his knowledge and consent. So my disguise had nothing to do with fooling you, and everything to do with protecting Cassius.”
Luma was standing hands on hips. “The trouble is, once you tell one lie, people stop trusting you.”
Mr. Wu appeared contrite. “I apologize again for lying about Dogan’s father. I intend to make it up to you. But, aside from that, everything I’ve told you—as Cassius or Gutenberg or myself—has been the absolute truth.”
This didn’t appease Dogan. “Oh yeah? Well I don’t believe all that junk you said about us passing some kind of test! I think you were just trying to butter us up!”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“How the hell should I know?”
This seemed to be the extent of Dogan’s argument.
I glanced at Bim. He said, “Ask about the original Cassius.”
“Tell us how Cassius came into being in the first place.”
Mr. Wu leaned back and placed his fingertips together. “Surely you’ve deduced that. My father, Wu Quon, was the original Cassius. He built the complex that’s hidden beneath the DynaLink building.”
“The one in Dome Nine?”
“Yes, the very building in which you worked.”
On one level, this made sense: Wu Quon had been placed in charge of DynaLink’s Philadelphia division at the age of 22, and he’d fathered Wu Peng, his youngest son, at the age of 59. Between them both, they covered the hundred-year span of Cassius’s existence.
I said, “But what motivated him to do it?”
“You knew my father, Teo. Did he strike you as a compassionate man?”
“Anything but.”
“Exactly. He presented himself to everyone who knew him—includin
g his family—as a hateful, heartless man who valued power above all else. I never got a glimpse of who he really was until he chose me as his successor.”
“But what motivated him?”
“It’s funny, but I never asked him that question. His actions as Cassius displayed his true nature more clearly than words could ever have conveyed.”
I’d been watching Mr. Wu’s eyes as he gave his responses. I could see nothing in them beyond sincerity. I glanced at Bim again.
He said, “How about the vegetation?”
“How did your father acquire his expertise in horticulture?”
“Are you referring to the food supply Outside?”
“Yes.”
“He had no expertise of any kind. What he did have was an entire research division at his command, and more GR chits than one man could ever spend. Engineering the plants was the easy part. The trick was covering his tracks. But he was a master at playing one bureaucrat against another.”
Bim said, “How can he and Cassius be in DC at the same time?”
“How is it possible for Cassius to keep making appearances while you’re here in DC?”
Mr. Wu sighed. “As I’m sure you can guess, I have enough equipment here to keep appearing as Cassius. I can’t do much of anything else, but I can do that.”
“And where’s this equipment located?”
“As a matter of fact, it’s right down here, in the Metro.”
“We’d like to see it.”
“If I take you there, will you please stop questioning me?”
The Three exchanged skeptical glances.
Mr. Wu said, “There’s only so much I can do. After a certain point, you’re just going to have to trust me.”
I said. “Sorry, no promises. Lead the way, please.”
We followed Mr. Wu along the platform until we came to its center. He directed our attention to the wall. It was plain to see that the archway that once existed there had been bricked up.
Mr. Wu said, “Long ago, an underground walkway connected this station with the Farragut North station. Farragut North was eliminated during the renovation and now it’s impossible to reach from above ground. But their attempt to seal off the connecting walkway was a halfhearted affair. My father took the liberty of putting in a door. You unlock it like this…” He pressed one of the bricks. “…and then you just push it open.” A section of the wall swung inward, creating a narrow entryway at the edge of the arch.
Mr. Wu turned sideways, preparing to slip through. “I have the Glorb, so I’ll go in first.”
A voice came from the shadows, further up the platform. “Next stop, Nampo Street!” A PilotTron emerged from the gloom, moving quickly toward us. “Watch the doors, please!”
Moto looked up at me and I gave her the nod. She intercepted the LobeBot and dropped it.
Mr. Wu slowly shook his head. “They’re quite a nuisance down here. It’s the escalators. They don’t recognize them as staircases. Then they fall to the bottom and can’t climb back up and just wander around in the dark.”
Moto came trotting back, looking pleased with herself.
Mr. Wu said, “As I was saying, I’ll go in first.”
He edged into the opening and disappeared inside. I went in next, squeezing past him, taking my time. If he were going to bolt, he would have made his move when the LobeBot appeared.
He waited patiently for Moto and the Three to pass through the opening, then swung the door shut, making sure it locked into place. He said, “Farragut North is only a three minute walk from here.”
The underground walkway had been frozen in time on the day it was sealed off. The gaudy posters that lined the walls were well preserved in their cases, advertising products that seemed to make people impossibly beautiful: cleansers for hair, teeth, and skin, powders for the eyes and cheeks, extravagant clothing for women and men both. Even the foods and beverages people consumed seemed to make them beautiful. It was hard to believe such a world ever existed.
We emerged into Farragut North, which was much like Farragut West except that the arched ceiling wasn’t as high. A row of abandoned subway cars stood at the center of the platform.
Mr. Wu led us toward them. “My father could never understand why they left the train cars here. I can’t either. There doesn’t seem to be anything the matter with them.”
The doors to the first car were standing open. I could see that the interior was crowded with electronic equipment. The doors to the second car, however, were closed, and curtains blacked out the windows.
I turned to Mr. Wu. “What’s inside that car?”
“Those are my living quarters, such as they are. I assure you they’re of limited appeal. The first car is vastly more entertaining.”
He stepped through the open doors and turned to face us, rubbing his hands. “Now. Who would like to be Cassius?”
The Three just stared at him.
He smiled. “Let’s try it this way: who trusts me the least? Would that be you, Teo? Come in and let me show you how it’s done. Perhaps then you’ll set your suspicions aside.”
I squatted next to Moto. “What do you think? Is it okay?”
She nodded without much conviction.
The bulk of the equipment was packed into the front of the subway car. This left plenty of room in the rear to accommodate us. The only equipment in back was a large armchair and an odd looking television set. Resting on top of the TV was a clear plastic bag covered with tiny metal disks. Mr. Wu showed me to the armchair, and the Three lined up behind it, staying close. Moto sat at my feet, eyes on Mr. Wu.
I said, “The hologram is generated here first, and then transferred to the memorial.”
Mr. Wu held up the plastic bag. “Exactly right. That’s where this comes in.” He handed it to me. “It’s a mask of sorts. You slip it over your head, with the metal sensors in front.”
I fitted the mask loosely into place, lining up my eyes with the eyeholes.
Mr. Wu picked up a control box. “This next part will feel a bit strange. Are you ready?”
I nodded. He flipped a switch and suddenly the bag was clinging tight against my face, like a second layer of skin. More disconcertingly, the plastic entered my nasal passages and coated my lips, teeth and tongue. Somehow, I was still able to breathe and speak.
Mr. Wu adjusted twisted the knobs on the television set. Its screen lit up and there was Cassius, staring back at me.
I said, “I’m controlling his face now, aren’t I?”
Cassius mouthed the words along with me. His eyes, however, were motionless.
Mr. Wu picked up a pair of goggles. “Once you put these on, your eye movements will control his, and you’ll be able to see what he sees.” He handed them to me, then picked up a pair of headphones. “And with these on, you’ll hear what he hears. At the moment, though, I’m afraid there isn’t much going on.”
With the goggles and headphones in place, I found myself high up in the Memorial chamber, staring down past Lincoln’s knees at the empty marble floor.
Mr. Wu sounded far away. “The mask will pick up your voice and transform it into his. You’ll be able to hear it through the headphones as you speak.”
I looked up “Gettysburg Address” and recited the first sentence.
“Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal…”
I could indeed hear Cassius’s voice echoing throughout the chamber.
I pulled off the goggles and headphones. “That’s enough.”
Mr. Wu flipped the switch again and the mask went slack. I pulled it off, as well, and handed everything back. “I still don’t understand how the information gets transmitted from here to there.”
Mr. Wu said, “A key point, and the reason the signal can’t be traced. All the Domes are connected to the
DataStream, and to each other, through wireless networks. There are routers mounted all over the Domes. My father established a direct link to these routers and began transmitting the hologram from there, jumping randomly from router to router every few seconds. The signal isn’t in any one place long enough to be traced.”
I said, “Wait a minute. Are you saying that all the computers in all the Domes are connected to the DataStream wirelessly?”
“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what led to the Great Crash.”
“The irony is almost too rich. The GR has let the DataStream become just as vulnerable as the Internet.”
“What are you suggesting? That someone can take down the whole DataStream the same way?”
“Not someone, Teo. You. You can take it down and throw the GR into complete disarray. All we have to do is find the second complex your father built, and we can do it this very day. We can start searching right now.”
Dogan spoke up. “Hold it, hold it! You said you were going to tell us where my dad was!”
Mr. Wu let out a long sigh. “Please, Dogan, be reasonable. I’m going to find out where your father is, I’ve made that promise a number of times. But you’ve had me jumping through hoops all morning and I’m through with it. So, with your kind permission, I’m going to take Teo on a little expedition. You’re welcome to come along, but I guarantee you’ll find it quite dull.”
“So what are we supposed to do, hang around this dump and wait for you?”
“I humbly suggest that you go back to the White House and eat a proper breakfast. When Teo and I are finished, we’ll pick you up there and come back here and see what the DataStream can tell us about your father. How does that sound?”
Dogan said, “Well, I am kind of hungry…”
Luma was hesitant “I don’t know. I think we should stick together.”
I looked at Bim. He said, “At this point, it’s almost impossible to believe he isn't Cassius.”
I addressed Mr. Wu. “You’re going to be hobbling around as Gutenberg the whole time, aren’t you?”
“I haven't any choice.”
I turned to the Three. “There doesn’t seem to be much point in dragging you along. We’ll walk you back to the White House.”
Luma wasn’t convinced. “Teo, are you sure about this?”
I said, “Don’t worry, Luma. Everything will be fine.”
It was a foolish thing to say.