Over the next couple of days Paul managed to stay awake more, ask questions, move his arms and legs. One afternoon while Caleb, Anna and Alberto were in the room with him, he asked about the shooting. They had wanted to tell him what happened but didn’t want to do it until he was ready. They told him about the shooter firing three bullets from long range and how he had never been found, how he was hit in the head, Caleb was hit in the arm, then Paul asked about Sal.
“Sal was with us, right?” Paul asked.
“Yes.” Caleb said.
“Is he OK?”
“He’s in a private room on the fourth floor.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“You can talk to him, but he can’t talk to you,” Caleb knew the next question.
“Why?”
“The gunshot hit him in the jaw, the doctors weren’t able to save it. His jaw is gone, he can’t talk, eat or drink.”
“Oh, pity.” Paul said. Anna, Alberto and Caleb were surprised by Paul’s answer. Paul had always shown such concern for others, but the best he could muster for a man who had his jaw blown off was “pity.” That wasn’t a Paul-type response.
Sal’s Visitor
2066
O ver the next week Paul regained his strength, even getting out of bed and walking around the hospital hallways. He was talking, laughing, and giving his own HoloMate reports on his recovery in LFTP-939. His physical appearance looked completely normal except the healing wound on his head and his formerly blue eyes, which stayed black. The doctors couldn’t explain it, but it appeared to be a small price to pay for Paul’s coming back to life. Paul had seemed to forget about Sal, then one afternoon after he gave a HoloMate report he said to Caleb, “Let’s go see Sal.”
“I’ll check with his doc.” Caleb left the room, found Sal’s doctor and asked if he could take a visitor. Caleb came back to Paul’s room. “He said you can see him.”
“Good, let’s go, where’s my phone?” Paul asked.
“I’ve got it,” Caleb said.
Paul held out his hand, Caleb gave him the phone.
The two walked out of Paul’s room, with two of Paul’s security detail in tow. They got on the elevator, Caleb pushed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator was quiet, Paul staring at the door not saying or doing anything, as if he were the only one on the elevator. The doors opened at the fourth floor and they got off, turning to the right where Sal’s room was next to the nurse’s station. Caleb walked in first, seeing Sal lying in bed. His head was heavily bandaged with a feeding tube down his nose and a breathing tube attached to his trachea below the Adam’s apple. Despite the heavy bandages, it was obvious there was no shape where Sal’s angular jaw had once been.
“I’ve got a visitor,” Caleb said to Sal. Then Paul walked in the room. Paul took one look at Sal and started to cry.
“I’m so sorry, Sal,” Paul said as he walked up to his bed and grabbed his hand. All he could see was Sal’s eyes, which started welling as Paul spoke. Caleb moved a chair next to Sal’s bed. Paul sat, holding Sal’s hand, both of them crying, Paul not saying a word, Sal not able to. Paul saw the leather straps on Sal’s wrists holding him to the bed.
“Why the straps?” Paul asked.
“He kept pulling the tubes out,” Caleb said.
Paul sat there for a couple of minutes, just holding Sal’s hand. “Guys, can you give Sal and I a few minutes alone?”
“Sure,” Caleb said. Caleb and the two security agents left the room, closing the door behind him.
After the door closed, Paul turned back to look at Sal. The tears once in Paul’s eyes were completely gone. Paul looked at Sal, Sal for the first time seeing Paul’s black irises.
“You’ve always come in second, you’ve been a loser your whole life, no one’s loved you, not even your mother. Oh and Zola, you knew she was a DarkRoom whore right? She was a favorite amongst the senate.” Paul tossed lie after lie at Sal just to torment him. Sal’s eyes widened, a hissing sound coming through the trachea tube from his increased breathing. Sal’s hands pulled at the bed, restrained by the wrist straps.
Paul continued. “You think I didn’t know how you tried to VF me?” Sal started to shake, the hissing increased, the straps rattled against the bed as Sal tried to get free, his eyes like saucers peering out from the white bandages. Paul then leaned over to Sal and whispered in his ear, “I want you to hear this.” Paul then made a call on his phone.
“Yes, Mr. Chairperson,” the voice said. Sal recognized it, it was Mario.
“Do it in one minute,” Paul said.
“Yes, Mr. Chairperson,” Mario said.
Paul hung up, staring at Sal with his black eyes, smiling as he watched Sal struggle, knowing what was coming. Paul then leaned over Sal and kissed him on the forehead. Paul mustered up some tears before leaving the room, Sal still struggling in his bed.
“I feel so horrible for him,” Paul said to Caleb as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
They walked to the waiting elevator, then heard an alarm and nurses running to Sal’s room as the elevator door closed.
Paul continued to recover over the next five months, but those around him noticed a change. His once patient demeanor had become testier, his kindness replaced with anger and disdain. His black eyes made him more intimidating, instilling fear in those who he interacted with. All compassion seemed to have left him, seemingly not caring about the thoughts and feelings of others. He became the anti of who he was years earlier. As the world would discover, they’d yet to see the worst of his depravity.
Link the Accounts
2066
A fter facing certain death just five months earlier, Paul had now fully recovered and was back at work in Rome. Most people who saw Paul after the assassination had similar responses--happiness then startled at his eyes. His doctors suspected the black replacing his usual blue iris pigment was only temporary. After five months the black was as prominent as it was when he first emerged from his brain death. Paul didn’t seem to mind it, he kind of liked the new look.
Through Paul’s recovery, Caleb became more integral to Paul’s staff. Paul insisted that any communication be carried out by Caleb and no one else. Caleb was still head of HoloMate, but his CEO responsibilities took second seat to supporting Paul. With Caleb taking on more government responsibility, Paul injected greater influence over HoloMate, dictating broadcast content and ordering the shutting down of any HoloRooms he deemed not in the Europe Ethnarchy’s best interest. While Paul allowed the DarkRooms to continue with no changes, he forced the shutdown of any HoloRooms speaking out against Paul and the Europe Ethnarchy. All forms of religion were banned on HoloMate. Anyone caught conducting any kind of religious service or study would be subject to execution. After Sal’s death, Paul decreed MD Biometrics as property of the Europe Ethnarchy, with Mario as its CEO now working under Caleb. Paul used the VF capability that Mario created at MD Biometrics to order executions of those who spoke out against him. Trying to speak reason to Paul was met with strong retaliation. He even ordered his old friend Senator Dalia Backus VFd because she tried to appeal to Paul’s now warped sense of logic. The three people Paul wanted most to VF were chairpersons Popov, Zhao, and Maghur. But like Paul, they were not MDChip wearers, so it was impossible to VF them. Paul’s name became synonymous with some of the most notorious dictators in history--Stalin, Hitler, Hussein, Kim. The only two people in Paul’s inner circle were Caleb and Natalizio. Paul needed them both for what he had planned.
Each morning Paul met with Natalizio and Caleb. Natalizio gave updates on military activity and Caleb prepared the day’s propaganda messaging to be broadcast through HoloMate. The three would sit at Paul’s desk, Paul in his leather chair and Caleb and Natalizio on the hard, wooden chairs across the desk from Paul. On this particular morning, Paul put out a request neither was expecting.
“I want you to link HoloMate subscribers to their MDCentral chip accounts,” Paul said.
/> Caleb and Natalizio looked at each other, not sure where this was going. “You want what, Mr. Chairperson?” Caleb asked.
“Link HoloMate and MDCentral together.”
“Why?”
Paul was growing impatient and was ready to lash out at the two but remembered that he needed them. “I want HoloMate to be able to control a user’s MDChip. When can you have it done?”
Caleb was at a loss as to how to go about doing it and how long it would take. HoloMate and MDCentral were two of the largest and most complex databases in existence. It could take months to get it right but he didn’t want to tell Paul something he didn’t want to hear.
“Two months,” Caleb said, not believing his own estimate.
“You’ve got two months,” Paul said. He then went into more specifics on what he wanted. “I want an MDChip wearer to accept the StigmaChip through HoloMate, and I want the StigmaChip to only be activated once a user accepts terms through HoloMate.”
“What terms?” Natalizio asked as he shifted in his chair.
“I’ll give you the terms later. Right now, just build the capability. A StigmaChip should only be activated through checking an accept box.”
“Yes, Mr. Chairperson,” Caleb said.
“OK, now what about Zeus.” Paul turned to Natalizio for an update.
“Popov is targeting launch this coming February.” Natalizio said.
“How’s our mole doing?”
“He’s still giving us code drops and development updates. We’re able to compile the code and can simulate Zeus in our labs.”
“Do you still need Riccio?” Paul asked.
“Yes,” Natalizio said.
“As soon as he’s no longer essential, VF him.” VF had become a favorite phrase of Paul’s. He thought nothing about killing off anyone who wasn’t helpful.
“Yes, Mr. Chairperson.” Natalizio’s dedication to Paul ran deep, but even he was growing fearful of Paul and his erratic behavior.
“Caleb, arrange a trip to Jerusalem next week to meet with Dichter. Tell him to be at the airport where we will meet at the Europe Ethnarchy hanger for a brief meeting. We’ll leave for Rome immediately after the meeting.” Paul said.
“Any particular day?”
“You choose.”
“OK,” Caleb said. Both he and Natalizio were puzzled as to the purpose of such a short meeting but didn’t want to question Paul.
“Nothing more.” Paul said as he turned his chair around, away from Caleb and Natalizio. The two got up and walked out of the office. Caleb looked to the left and noticed the shadow box on the floor. It had been smashed and the dented folding stool was missing. He then looked to his right and saw it crumpled on the floor, with huge dents in the wall where the chair had been repeatedly slammed.
“What happened to the stool?” Caleb asked.
“Not your concern.” Ever since his brain-death incident, Paul had angry outbursts prompted by even benign triggers. Earlier that day Paul got angry during a call with his sister when she asked about his eyes. He hung up the phone and saw the stool in the window box. It reminded him of his mother and how much he hated God for taking her, fueling his anger. He took the window box from the wall, smashed it to the ground, grabbed the stool and repeatedly banged it against the wall before throwing it to the ground.
After the two left, Paul turned his chair back toward his desk and grabbed his water, took a sip, and sarcastically said to himself, “Dichter’s going to love this.”
The Hangar Meeting
2066
E arly on Monday morning Paul, Caleb and Natalizio left Rome for the three-hour flight to Jerusalem. Paul had already briefed Caleb and Natalizio on the purpose of the meeting with Dichter. Though they disagreed with what Paul was about to do, they were unwilling to confront him about his decision. Paul sat in the first row of the plane, with Caleb and Natalizio sitting behind him. They had already had their regular morning meeting prior to takeoff, so in Paul’s mind, there was nothing further to discuss. Natalizio was busy thinking about what he needed to do after Paul told Dichter of his plans. It was going to be a shock to the system and there were thousands of troops and tons of materiel that would be impacted. Caleb was doing the same, thinking through how to communicate the action the way Paul wanted it communicated. Both Caleb and Natalizio were dreading what was about to happen. Paul sat in the front row, calmly sipping espresso and looking out the window over the blue of the Mediterranean.
The plane landed in Jerusalem. Whenever Paul would come to visit, Dichter would personally greet him at the tarmac. Paul would walk down the stairs from the plane with Dichter waiting below, giving each other a kiss on each cheek when Paul reached the bottom. They had done this on every visit since Paul had brokered the peace treaty over three years ago. As Paul’s plane landed, Dichter took his usual spot on the tarmac. He thought it odd that Paul could only stay for a short hangar visit but decided that he must be busy and needed to cut this visit short. He was just thankful Paul could make time for him.
The plane door opened, the stairway wheeled to the plane, then Paul emerged, followed by Caleb and Natalizio. Dichter was surprised to see Natalizio, as the visits were typically only Paul and Caleb. He watched as Paul descended the stairway, how Paul appeared to be looking out over the runway, not establishing eye contact like he typically did with Dichter. As Paul approached the bottom, Dichter attempted to kiss him as they customarily did, but Paul extended his hand for a formal handshake. Dichter again was taken off guard but awkwardly extended his hand to meet Paul’s.
“Hello, Mr. Chairperson,” Dichter said.
“Let’s talk, Mr. President.”
“Certainly.” By now Dichter knew something was wrong. Paul always called him Ari.
Paul, Caleb and Natalizio walked the 40 meters to the Europe Ethnarchy hangar, with Dichter walking behind. They went in the hangar where there was a table with four chairs in the center. The four walked to the table and sat down, the sound of footsteps bouncing off the hangar walls.
Paul started the conversation. “I’ll get to it. Popov is preparing to strike. We need troops and materiel in Finland, Belarus, and Latvia. I’m ordering the vacating of Israel and Palestine beginning immediately. You’ve had over three years to build up your forces, you need to defend yourself.”
Dichter just sat there. It was one thing to re-prioritize forces and materiel, it was something different to abandon the region completely. He looked at Paul and his emotionless face and black eyes.
“Mr. Chairperson, please can we discuss this?” Dichter did nothing to hide his panic. No protection from the Europe Ethnarchy meant an immediate resurgence of the Palestine Coalition. An unprotected, Israel would fall into the coalition’s hands.
“I’ve made my decision.” Paul said, his tone an icy cold.
“Caleb, talk to him!” Dichter was grasping at anything he could to get Paul to reconsider.
“I’m sorry Ari,” was all Caleb could muster.
“Director?” Dichter worked his way around the table to see if anyone would come to his aid.
“We’ll conduct an orderly withdrawal,” Natalizio said.
Paul got up from his chair. “We need to get back to Rome,” he said as he started walking out of the hanger and to his waiting plane. Caleb and Natalizio got up and walked out, not saying a word to Dichter, who sat at the table, head in his hands, wondering how it could possibly be any worse for him. He was about to find out.
Caleb took out his phone and called Mario. “Do it,” he said.
Dichter, still sitting at the table with his head in his hands, suddenly grabbed his chest and fell out of his chair to the hard cement floor in the hangar.
As they boarded the plane, Natalizio’s phone rang. “When will you be out?” the voice asked.
“Five days,” Natalizio said, then hung up the phone.
The voice on the other end of the phone was Palestine Coalition leader Zaid Rahn. Earlier in the week, Natalizio had
told him of the Europe Ethnarchy’s exit and that one of Rahn’s lieutenants was really a Europe Ethnarchy agent.
Rahn ended his call with Natalizio. He and his lieutenants were in their bunker in the Jordanian Highlands, sitting around a makeshift wooden table. Rahn stood up, walking around the room behind each sitting lieutenant, telling them of the ethnarchy’s exit in five days. He then stopped as he was behind the ethnarchy agent posing as one of his lieutenants, pulled a knife from his belt, grabbed the agent by the hair, pulled his head back, and slit his throat from ear to ear. The rest of the lieutenants sat there in horror watching Rahn kill one of his cadre.
“He was one of them,” Rahn said. “We take back our homeland in five days.” His lieutenants sat there staring at their colleague’s dead body, too stunned to celebrate the eventual annihilation of Israel.
Paul, Caleb and Natalizio boarded the plane from Jerusalem back to Rome. Caleb and Natalizio talked about where all of this was going, and whether the once-brilliant Paul had turned into nothing more than a psychopath. If so, how could they stop him? At all times, Paul carried a device that Mario had built which enabled him, at any time to VF anyone in his inner circle. A single flip of his finger, and any of Paul’s closest advisors, including Caleb and Natalizio, could be VFd.
Paul sat alone in the front row of the plane, thinking about what he would do next when MDCentral and HoloMate’s account databases were integrated.
Christmas Decree
2066
M DCentral and HoloMate account integration was complete in November 2066. To the world, integration was sold as a benefit in that they could see a history of their MDSolution treatments and order StigmaChips all through their HoloMate account. For Paul, it was a way to coerce billions of wearers around the world to follow his orders through “accept” terms. For any law Paul decreed, he had Caleb create an accept term that all subscribers were required to read and digitally sign. Each accept term had an expiration date. If the term wasn’t accepted by its expiration date, a consequence would be invoked. Paul’s favorite consequence involved the StigmaChip. Failure to accept would turn off the subscriber’s StigmaChip function. The chip on the subscriber’s forehead would blink red, a form of scarlet letter telling everyone that the subscriber not only went against one of Paul’s decrees but, more importantly, was now prey to the Stigma blood cancer. Because the cancer was contagious, others avoided the subscriber. If a subscriber had yet to receive the StigmaChip, then failure to accept meant the subscriber would not be allowed to get a StigmaChip. Only those with clear chips on their foreheads bearing the three Stigma symbols were safe. Others with either a blinking red chip or none at all would be presumed contagious and not only shunned by others but would endure the painful blood cancer.
The Lawless One and the End of Time Page 24