Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  “All right, Shalton,” said Montero. “You stay along with Harris.”

  The second soldier grunted, displeased, but didn’t voice objections . . . not something you do when given an order by a lieutenant in the presence of a major.

  “Oh, and tell Willie to bring a hatchet or saw to cut through bone,” said Zach.

  When Willie found them two hours later, the musk ox remnants had quit steaming as the warm flesh cooled in the arctic air. Chunks of meat lay on a piece of hide. Zach and the two army enlisted men had done what they could in dressing out the meat and finished the task using a heavy meat cleaver Willie brought.

  “I think you made Houdini’s day,” said Willie. “This cleaver is the best cutting tool I could find. Houdini said don’t lose it, but he got excited and started talking about everything he was gonna try out with musk ox meat. I hope musk ox tastes good because he mentioned roasts, stew, and was dreaming up other recipes. Looks like you’ve got a good hundred and fifty pounds or more of meat.”

  “Yeah, about right,” said Zach. “Let’s finish up and wash in the stream over there.”

  Conceal or Reveal

  They returned in time for the evening meal, although it was half an hour before they finished answering questions about the musk ox. Sally Ingersoll was initially outraged at their killing a protected animal, only to be pacified when convinced the animal was fated to be killed by wolves.

  Zach and Andrew sat down to eat with Shalton and Harris.

  Mueller stopped at their table. “Zach, Andrew, come to Sinclair’s office when you’re done.”

  Zach nodded and ate the rest of his meal silently, then went to the second floor that housed offices and workrooms.

  “Ah, here you are,” Mueller said when Zach walked through the open door to the general’s office and found Sinclair talking to Huxler and Jefferson.

  “Close the door,” said Sinclair. “We need to talk about something. Charles tells me Simeon has been pushing harder to hear more about human military forces and war the last few weeks. We had Zooty and Carolyn scrub out related articles before we gave Simeon the encyclopedia. Charles is concerned about whether it’s a good idea to hide such information from Simeon or to go ahead and let it all hang out. My inclination is not to tell Simeon things related to the darker side of human civilization. Charles argues the opposite.”

  “I think hiding specific topics is unwise,” said Mueller. “Although it doesn’t always work, the impression we’re getting is that Simeon opens up and gives us new information more often when we’ve been open with him, even if it’s skewed in our giving a lot more information than in the other direction. We’re all frustrated with our lack of progress in finding out more of what the Object is and why it’s here. If we’re going to make more progress within a shorter time frame, I think we have to take some chances.”

  Sinclair’s frown deepened, and his slight headshake made his feelings known. “I don’t like it, but I’ll admit it’s more of a gut feeling than anything else.”

  He sighed and looked at Jefferson and then Zach. “What do you two think?”

  “I agree with Charles,” said Zach. “The sessions I’ve had with Simeon that seemed to go someplace were when there was a sense of sharing. As you know, I’m pretty open with it, except for parts of my army and CIA experience. There’s no doubt in my mind that in sessions where Simeon probed that way, and I avoided answering, I have a definite sense of him shutting down when I thought we had been getting somewhere.”

  “And you, Major?” asked Sinclair.

  “I don’t see what we have to lose. Simeon is already aware some of us are military. We continue to suspect he knows more about us than he’s letting on. I think he . . . and by that, I mean the Object . . . had plenty of time and opportunity to monitor radio and TV communications before we built the Faraday cage. If I had to lay a bet, I’d give good odds many of his questions are either confirming what he thinks he already knows or evaluating our openness or both. I advise going ahead and being more open with him.”

  “Well,” Sinclair said, “I guess that’s what I thought all of you would say. All right. I’m not enthused about this, but I don’t have a good counterargument I’m convinced of.”

  Simeon Learns about War

  The schedule was changed so that both Andrew and Zach would have same-day sessions where they delved into the topic of war. The VR sessions began at 9:00 a.m.—as usual. Simeon never explained why he insisted the VR session always started at the same time each day and that they have only one session a day. However, today Simeon had agreed to take part in separate sessions with Jefferson and Marjek.

  Sinclair joined Huxler and Mueller in observing, something he seldom did. The three men sat in the VR observation room listening to the session audio and watching a fixed view of the VR room, as if they were standing apart from the two chairs where Simeon and the user would sit. Ralph, Harold, and Jason sat at the system controls and took turns monitoring the system.

  Andrew went first. By now, the cartoonish VR room they’d used at first had evolved into a simulation of a nineteenth-century English den or parlor, depending on the session. At first, they suspected that Simeon insisted on the den for the men and the parlor for women. However, they quickly dispensed with that theory when it became apparent the setting was a random selection for each session.

  He sat in a thick-armed paisley chair, waiting for Simeon to appear. The ornate wooden door on the opposite side of the room opened and in walked Simeon, the epitome of a middle-aged man of friendly demeanor, a cultured expression, and short frosted hair.

  “Hello, Andrew. How are you today?”

  “I’m fine, Simeon. How are you?”

  “I am as I always am. However, if I may ask you something, Andrew. Why do humans almost always ask the same question or some version when they already know the answer?”

  “I believe you asked this question before, Simeon?”

  “Yes, Andrew, but I like to hear the answers that different humans give to the same question.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s to be polite and as a way to start a conversation, especially if the speaker doesn’t have anything specific in mind.”

  “Thank you, Andrew. Do you have anything specific to talk about today?”

  “Yes. I’ve told you something of my personal life in previous sessions. You know I’m in the military, and you’ve asked questions about that before, but I have not answered until today.”

  “Should I infer today will be different?”

  “I may answer more than before, but there might be things I choose not to talk about, for either personal or professional reasons. Do you have anything specific you’d like to know, or should I just begin describing my military career?”

  “Please start with describing your opinion of the role of a military,” said Simeon.

  For the next hour, Andrew described and Simeon asked. Simeon seemed to have no special interest in any one area Andrew covered, including his history in the military, the rank structure, and the duties and roles of each rank—all of this to the extent of Andrew’s experience. When the agreed-upon hour of the session ended, the simulated phone in the room rang.

  “Ah,” said Simeon, “time does pass quickly when we have an interesting discussion.”

  “Even for you? Surely, time is not the same for you as for us.”

  “No, Andrew, it is not, but I thought these words were another phrase in your language whose purpose is empathetical, rather than information exchange. Was I incorrect?”

  “I don’t really know. Often, different words and phrases mean different things for different humans.”

  “Yes, that can be confounding in understanding humans. However, I hope to understand more as I interact with all of you and anyone else in the future. Goodbye, Andrew. Until our next session.” Simeon rose from his chair and walked toward the door.

  “Simeon, before you go, I’m curious. Zach Marjek is going to follow me. Why don’t yo
u just wait in the room until he enters the virtual reality? You always enter after one of us.”

  “I believe humans adjust to the virtual reality easier if they are alone in the room when they first enter. Then, after a few seconds, my entering is not as much of a jolt as it would be if they suddenly found themselves in the room with what for them was an alien. Until next time, Andrew.” Simeon turned and walked through the door, which closed by itself.

  In the control room, Sinclair sat back in his chair. “I guess I’m relieved. Jefferson didn’t reveal anything we have to worry about. Simeon seemed more interested in the major’s personal feelings.”

  “Remember, this is only the first session on the topic,” said Huxler. “We don’t know how subtle Simeon can be. He may have been trying to relax Jefferson for future sessions.”

  “Come now,” said Adams. “Let’s not ascribe motivations we can’t possibly know as a basis for predicting future reactions.”

  Huxler leaned back in his chair and flexed both wrists to raise his hands in placation. “I’m just pointing out a possibility, Charles. I’m well aware it’s only a suggestion as to a possible motivation, not that I’m sure I’m right or that Simeon has any motivation at all. However, I find it interesting that Simeon continues to attempt behavior patterns consistent with humans. For example, the mundane chitchat we all take part in.”

  “But I don’t get the impression we learned much today, did we?” asked Sinclair.

  “Probably not,” said Mueller, “but let’s see how Zach’s session goes.” He reached for the microphone settings and switch to the VR control room. “This is Mueller. Let us know as soon as Zach is ready.”

  “I noticed something,” Huxler said. “Is empathetical a real word?”

  “What?” questioned Sinclair.

  “Simeon used the word empathetical. English is a pretty promiscuous language for taking words and deriving different parts of speech from them—you know, nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs. But I don’t think empathetical would be found in any dictionary. Words that derive from empathy are empathetic, an adjective, and empathetically, which is an adverb. Technically, Simeon made up a new word, which shows a deep understanding of English language structure.”

  “I’ll let others worry about grammar rules some other time,” said Sinclair. “I think Marjek must be about ready.”

  “Just finishing up,” said Harold over the intercom. “Zach’s already inside. Ralph’s checking the chamber panel. Ah . . . finished. We’re headed back into to the control room.

  “Hello, Simeon,” said Zach, as the Object’s avatar walked through the door.

  “Hello, Zach. How are you today?”

  “A little sore from a long hike I took yesterday. I usually try to stay pretty active, but it’s been weeks since I exercised that much, and I guess I’m getting a little older and get out of shape faster.”

  “It’s a problem I do not have,” said Simeon. “It is an advantage in some ways, but then I will never experience a corporeal existence. What do you think of the two modes, Zach?”

  Zach was momentarily nonplussed. He hadn’t anticipated the question.

  “Uh . . . that’s not something I thought about, and I’m surprised you have. Are you wishing you had existence in the real world?”

  “Real world? I suppose we can argue over what is real, but I understand the question from your point of view. And what is the answer? I have recently wondered what it would be like to live in your world instead of mine. I also wonder why I ‘wonder’ because I have no reason to think I am programmed to wonder.”

  Zach didn’t know how to respond. He would have liked to ask Huxler and Mueller for advice, but that would interrupt the VR session. Instead, he opted to move ahead with the objective of the session.

  “I thought I would tell you more details of my military experience and let you ask questions,” said Zach. “However, like you and I have done in the past, I think it only fair we exchange information, instead of it being a strictly one-way flow from me to you.”

  “That is acceptable, with limitations I am not fully in control of. Why don’t we start and see what happens?”

  In the monitoring room, Huxler turned to the others. “Interesting. Simeon is admitting he’s not an independent entity and that something or someone controls him. I may be over-interpreting or engaging in wishful thinking, but I continue to believe we’re seeing Simeon’s behavior evolve just like the VR is becoming more complex. Does that mean Simeon is the Object, or is there an entity/AI/whatever above him that we may or may not ever have contact with?”

  Back in the VR room, Zach recounted when he first joined the army. Not knowing how much detail Simeon wanted, he let himself relax as he pulled up memories starting from his first day of induction through his first tour of duty in Afghanistan. Simeon mainly listened, interrupting only briefly for clarification or probes of Zach’s feelings. They were thirty minutes into the session when the climate changed.

  “It was my second month in Kandahar Province when I killed a man,” Zach said without emotion and stopped speaking for about fifteen seconds before Simeon responded.

  “Can you describe why that was necessary?”

  “I was a sergeant, an E-5 rank. I transferred a couple of times while stationed in the United States, and for several years I missed deployment to Afghanistan or Iraq. Finally, I was with the 82nd Airborne out of Fort Bragg, North Carolina, when my unit pulled an Afghanistan tour. Our company was on a sweep through a series of low hills. We were crossing a dry wash when Pete Gibbs took a round above his left ear. It went all the way through his head and took away half of his skull and most of his brain.

  “I didn’t realize he was a goner until I got to his body and took a good look. Our platoon lieutenant wanted to wait for the company commander to decide what to do next, but while he was on the radio, the platoon sergeant gave me the go-ahead to root out the sniper. I took my squad and circled around behind the position the sniper appeared to be shooting from—there had been several more shots without him hitting anyone.

  “We had good cover, and the shooter obviously had his attention on our other men. We got behind him in less than ten minutes. I was only about forty yards away. He was bearded, had long greasy-looking hair sticking out from the typical headgear for that region, and wore dirty white pants and shirt with a black vest-like garment over the shirt. He was also barefoot and had a Kalashnikov assault rifle that looked scarred and rusty.

  “I remember contrasting how he looked compared to Pete, who had shaved and put on a clean uniform before we started out that morning. He was eighteen years old, looked so baby faced, and was counting on me to teach him the ropes.

  “In the briefing the day before, our company commander told us our primary mission the next day would be to get prisoners for the intelligence wonks to interrogate. After Pete was killed, none of us had any interest in taking prisoners. I knew everyone in the squad wanted to take the shot, but I pulled rank. I hit him in the middle of the back. Probably a fatal hit within a few minutes. I didn’t wait and shot him three more times.

  “When the lieutenant came up and saw the back wounds, I’m sure he was about to read me the riot act for not trying to take the man prisoner. However, he wasn’t that dumb enough to comment once he saw the looks on our faces. It went into the after-action report as an enemy combatant killed during a firefight, with no mention of the number and location of wounds or whether any attempt was made to take him prisoner.”

  “How did you feel?” asked Simeon.

  “At the time . . . only satisfaction. We had to carry Pete’s body five or six kilometers until we came to where a medevac helicopter picked him up. It was only later that night, when we were back at the base camp, that it really hit me. I had killed another human being without hesitation.

  “That evening, the squad was drinking beers and toasting Pete when another sergeant, a friend, congratulated me on taking out the camel jockey. By then, I wasn’t feel
ing righteous anymore. It just seemed somehow . . . I don’t know . . . wrong . . . inappropriate . . . that I had killed a man whose name I didn’t know. What was his motivation? Why did he feel justified in shooting someone whose name he didn’t know and who likely had never done him any personal harm? Did he have a family? Wife and children? The rationale for us killing one another wasn’t apparent.”

  “How do you feel now?”

  “I suppose I still think it involves a level of insanity, but I’ve seen and experienced enough to believe sometimes it’s unavoidable. I wish we could settle all disagreements without resorting to violence, but that’s only a wish and not based in the real world. As long as there are people and nations willing to kill to get their way, there’s a need for people like me to stop them.”

  “Zach, am I correct you are no longer part of America’s military?”

  “Why you think that?”

  “I only know of Andrew Jefferson as a confirmed member of the human military, so the sample size is too small for certainty. However, I sense less of a commitment to rules with you than with Andrew.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Zach. “I’m no longer a formal member of America’s military, but I work for a government branch involved in limited action that can lead to fighting. The organization is called the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  In the monitoring room, Sinclair waited for Zach’s recitation to turn to the CIA. He rotated his chair to face Jason, Ralph, and Harold. “I’m afraid you three will have to leave the room. Zach may move to things you’re not authorized to know about.”

  After the three VR men left the room, Sinclair said to Mueller, “However it’s done, the next part of Zach’s session needs to be restricted access. Although I doubt anything he was involved in is more classified than what we’re doing, I’d like to keep the rest of the staff from hearing it. There’s also bound to be some pretty rough stuff, and there’s no point changing how the staff sees Zach if it’s not necessary.”