The Beam- The Complete Series

by Sean Platt

  The smile fell from Isaac’s lips. Across the stage, as assistants prepped, Natasha moved toward Micah and whispered something. Then Micah smiled, and Isaac felt his blood go cold.

  Isaac took two steps toward them both, summoning his wits, and then Jameson Gray appeared at the stage’s side.

  “Okay, kids,” he said with a grin. “It’s showtime!”

  There was a noise from the stage at the large room’s far end. Kai watched as everyone present seemed to heed it, ceasing conversation, stilling, turning toward the curtain.

  Beside Kai, in her elevated chair, Rachel said, “Wait until the end to do it, because I want to see this.”

  Kai turned to look at the old woman’s face. Impossibly, she was smiling.

  This was simultaneously the easiest and most difficult assassination of Kai’s life. On one hand, Rachel hadn’t just given Kai the green light; she’d helped Kai figure out how best to kill her and practically choreographed the entire thing. On the other, Kai couldn’t help but admire the woman the longer she knew her. She didn’t trust Rachel one whit. But she respected her plenty, and adored her style.

  “You’re sure about this?” Then, feeling as awkward as a girl asking for a date, Kai said, “You know, I don’t even really want to kill you.”

  A small laugh. “You need to, honey.”

  “I’d really rather not. And it’s Micah who sent me. Do you really want to let him win?”

  Rachel smiled wider, wrinkles stretched across leathery skin. “I know this is strange for you. But there’s much more happening here than you realize. I know Mr. Costa took you to see what I left for him. That’s important. It’s something that’s been kept from the public, which is why it’s appropriate that he cracks it open. Because Nicolai wants to expose some things, and this is the way.”

  “About Mindbender? About Shift?”

  “About a lot of things.”

  “How did you know Micah was planning to have you killed?”

  “It’s only logical. That’s why it’s important that he gets credit, and why I’m allowing you to do this. I saw it coming, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t take initiative. It means he’s not afraid of making difficult decisions. Those above him need to see he can do what’s necessary.”

  “But it’s your life.”

  “Bah. I’ve had enough of life.”

  “Who’s above Micah?”

  Rachel cackled. “Me.”

  “Who else?”

  The old woman glanced over then back at the stage. “There are always unseen hands at work. Even now. Micah thinks he’s acting on his own, but he isn’t. He’s a smart boy, but there are things he doesn’t understand. Things he’s taken for granted.”

  “Which things?”

  “I don’t have time to explain.” Rachel smiled. “And besides, where would be the fun in that, if I just told you?”

  Micah had popped through the curtain, run into the front row for something, then dashed back.

  “Look at him up there,” she said with what sounded like pride. “That’s my boy.”

  “He’s a killer.”

  “So am I,” Rachel snapped. “And so are you.” She glared at Kai. “You want to kill him instead?”

  She didn’t want to kill him, either. Even after all he’d done and how long he’d held her back, Micah was like a father to Kai.

  For the first time in an eon, Kai wondered how damaged she was to have the morals she did. Most people didn’t face these kinds of dilemmas.

  “I just want to move into the Beau Monde.”

  “You will. I’ve seen to it.”

  “And Nicolai. And D — ” She stopped herself, looking horrified.

  “And Doc Stahl,” Rachel agreed.

  “Except that he’s dead,” Kai said, trying to recover.

  “Sure he is.” They watched the stage for another minute. Then Rachel said, “Now, like I said, wait until it’s over. Until Jameson makes Isaac reappear.” She looked up and met Kai’s eyes. “You got it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Wait until I scream. Everyone will turn.”

  Something popped into Kai’s head. Something she hadn’t considered because it hadn’t dawned on her how eager Rachel would be for this, or how obvious she’d want it to be.

  “How can I possibly get away?”

  “Run out the doors.”

  “But security…”

  Rachel reached over and patted Kai’s cheek in a patronizing, grandmotherly manner. “Such a sweet, naive girl.”

  Kai opened her mouth to ask what that meant, but onstage, the curtains were parting.

  “Wait until the show is over,” she repeated, eyes forward. “Not just for me. For you too.”

  Kai’s eyes flicked to the small stage with its trademark Jamesonian flare. Then she looked back at Rachel.

  “Oh, yes,” the old woman said. “You’re going to want to see this.”

  Isaac stood center stage as the curtains parted, feeling dumb.

  Micah stood beside him. Natasha and Jameson Gray were visible to Isaac but invisible to the crowd, standing behind the stage-left curtains. Braemon’s building didn’t normally have a stage, but the one the bots had fabricated seemed to fit as if it had always belonged. Enterprise, unlike Directorate, spared no expense, even when the gathering’s stated goal was supposed to be raising money rather than spending it. The platform itself was synthetic, intelligently molded on-site after being poured to the floor in a puddle. The materials and design process couldn’t have been cheap. But again: Enterprise.

  Isaac felt vulnerable in enemy territory.

  The event’s official purpose was twofold: to raise money for the Violet James Foundation’s Respero Dinner charity and to make nice between the parties after the Shift run-up’s many disruptions and high emotions.

  But Enterprise didn’t care whether poor people got nice Dinners before being evaporated in Respero. Neither did anyone involved with the event.

  And the parties — no matter how much they smiled for Beam media — didn’t want to make nice.

  By the book, there were supposed to be no hard feelings. But as Isaac looked out across the mostly Enterprise gathering, he felt plenty. Until Vale had pulled his Prime Statement stunt, resurrecting the Mindbender pipe dream from storage and blowing the dust from its top, Enterprise had been positioned to take this Shift like candy from a baby. Now the tables were turned, and Directorate would almost surely win — and no matter the official line, no one in attendance was fine with it.

  All eyes were on Isaac and Micah. Natasha came into the open, and their eyes moved to her, too.

  The Enterprise champion.

  The famous wife, who’d shift to Enterprise and leave her husband behind.

  And the Directorate face man in the middle, arms at his sides, clueless as to what he was supposed to do next other than “clear his mind.”

  Isaac felt sure, now more than ever, that this had all been a setup. This was everyone’s revenge upon him. He’d stand on stage while his angry wife and vindictive brother listed his shortcomings. Detailed his public failures. Explained his inadequacies. Maybe pulled down his pants and laughed at the size of his dick — which he’d had enhanced, but still shriveled when he was nervous.

  This had been a phenomenally bad idea.

  Jameson Gray stepped onstage. He was dressed in his usual finery and began circling around the other three with theatrical gestures.

  “Well, here we are on the eve of Shift. They say politics are incestuous. They say politics make strange bedfellows.” Jameson stopped then looked at Micah, Isaac, and Natasha. “Now, just look at the Ryans. They’re proof of both!”

  The crowd laughed. Isaac didn’t think the joke was remotely funny. What was the implication? That Natasha was fucking them both? That Micah was fucking Isaac? The first would never be true (or true again) based on Natasha’s furious expression, and the second was figurative and had been occurring for decades. The comment managed to be false
and obvious at once.

  “Now, have any of you ever seen a vanishing cabinet trick?” Jameson asked the crowd.

  “No, never!” said a man in the front row. There was more good-natured laughter.

  Jameson’s face registered mock disappointment. “Wait…you have?”

  “No, never!” the man repeated, and the same people laughed again.

  “Oh,” Jameson said, feigning nerves, looking stage-right as Natasha crossed behind Isaac. “Well, I’m sorry, but that’s all I have for you, and it’s too late to change my act now.”

  A few people booed, playing along. Carter Vale, in the front row, made a motion like throwing a tomato.

  Jameson looked over. “Natasha? Would you please bring out the cabinet?”

  Natasha went behind the curtain, stood out of view to the crowd, and made a few grunting noises. Her eyes were on Isaac: playing her role like a dutiful performer, but still able to stare daggers at the same time.

  “Natasha? The cabinet, please.”

  Natasha, still out of sight, still staring at Isaac: “It’s too heavy!”

  Jameson bit his lip, slapped his hand against his leg, and looked around the room. Finally, he pointed to the man who’d spoken earlier. “You, sir. Could you help her?”

  The man walked forward. Jameson picked three more people: two women and another man. All came to the stage then looked Isaac over as if he were in the way.

  “Right over there. Please grab hold of a pair of handles on each side, and bring it in. It’s quite heavy, so be careful.”

  Natasha had stepped aside and was now smiling toward the four people, gesturing at air. The people moved over with more urging then grabbed hold of absolutely nothing as Natasha directed them. She motioned for them to lift the nonexistent cabinet, then walked beside them as they carried it, pointing.

  The four volunteers were awkward at first, but by the time they reached center stage, they were part of the performance. The men huffed, and the women pretended to strain against the imaginary cabinet’s weight. Their acting wasn’t flawless; the carriers in front led too far, and those on the side pushed too close. Clearly, Isaac thought as he watched, this invisible cabinet wasn’t staying a consistent size.

  The lead man ran into Isaac without apology, and Isaac found himself shoved aside while the volunteers jockeyed the invisible prop into position. Two of them gave Isaac the evil eye, seeming to wonder why he was loafing around while they were straining and doing all the work.

  “Okay, thank you,” Jameson said. “Natasha can’t usually move this cabinet by herself. It’s a new model and very heavy. But it’s an exceptional vanishing cabinet. See?” He waved his hand through the space. “It’s completely vanished already.”

  More laughter.

  “Would one of you please open the door, so my friend Isaac can get inside?”

  One of the men pretended to open a door and hold it for Isaac. After an awkward moment, Isaac stepped into the space. One of the women told him to watch his head on the low door. The crowd chuckled.

  Once inside the nonexistent vanishing cabinet, Isaac’s mind wondered just what the hell was going on. This was a horrible idea. The nation was watching, and yet again Isaac Ryan was being shoved around by others, oblivious, looking like he alone hadn’t a clue. The volunteers had decided the cabinet was small, so the four people, who still had their hands on the handles, surrounded him in a huddle. Natasha was off to the side, again near enough Micah to whisper. Every once in a while she’d look at Isaac, her gaze hard and hateful.

  Yes. This had been an awful idea.

  Jameson circled the group, asking the volunteers to push on the cabinet’s sides, to turn dials, pull levers, and generally prep the nothingness around Isaac for the upcoming vanishing. Isaac didn’t know that there would be this many people around him, or that the stage would be so open.

  Jameson told the crowd earnestly that there would be no Beam tricks. No trap doors in the stage. No teleportation apparatus. People laughed at that, too.

  “Is your mind clear?” came a whispered voice.

  Isaac looked over to see Micah very close, pretending to hold something between two spread arms. The volunteers were a pace away, being instructed to “check the cabinet’s bolts.”

  Mumbling, trying not to open his mouth, Isaac said, “What?”

  “It needs to get at that recording you made. There’s a jam field around the stage so you are now the only source of local broadcast. Weren’t you listening?”

  Isaac had heard Jameson telling a few additional volunteers something about jamming, but his mind had been elsewhere. He saw those people now, monitoring something on their handhelds to prove there would be no trickery. Whatever scanner and projector setup Jameson had, it must be reading Isaac and Isaac alone. The only way to command hoverbots and play a holo recording with a measurable jamming field in place, apparently.

  “Maybe if you’d told me ahead of time.”

  “He told you to clear your mind.”

  “But he didn’t bother to tell me to — ”

  “Shh!” Micah hissed, as if he hadn’t been the one to initiate their whispered discussion.

  The crowd gasped. Isaac looked up at a wall monitor, which now showed the event’s Beam feed on a three-second delay. He saw the scene onstage with the four volunteers and four participants then watched himself blink from existence for a half second. His moment of invisibility had lasted no longer than a flash, but it had earned the crowd’s attention.

  All eyes were on Isaac. The chatter had stopped. Isaac could even make out his mother on her elevated chair, with the dark-haired woman from earlier standing beside her.

  “Hey! Which one of you touched the wrong button?” Jameson demanded.

  The crowd laughed again, but this time the chuckles were slightly nervous. Apparently, the hoverbot invisibility cloak was convincing, even though Isaac had no idea the things were flying around him. Given that several of the volunteers were centimeters away — and one had touched him since the blink to make sure he was still there — it’d better be convincing. How the hell was he going to walk out of his invisible box, anyway? He might manage to crawl, but if he brushed their legs, he’d be sunk, and look like a fool yet again.

  The woman to Isaac’s right brushed his sleeve. Isaac looked over, but she’d already turned back to the magician.

  “Okay,” said Jameson. “Thank you for helping me set up my invisible vanishing cabinet. Would you mind giving it a spin to show everyone the back, so they know it’s not a trick cabinet?”

  The volunteers paused, but then pretended to turn the cabinet in a tight circle. Isaac found himself rotating with them, pushing down a bark of shock (to match murmurs from the crowd) as he spun in place. Thousands of bots must have sneaked below his shoes to make him rotate. Isaac wondered if his “open mind” was controlling those bots, too.

  “Now, if I could get your help, Micah,” Jameson said.

  Micah feigned shock. “Me?”

  “Well, yes. Mr. Braemon — ” Jameson nodded toward the big man standing near one of the room’s sides, “ — told me your brother has given you a lot of trouble during this campaign.”

  “He and President Vale stole Shift from us,” Micah said.

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Vale said, holding up his hands, palms-out. There was more laughter.

  “You can’t make a president disappear, though,” Micah told Jameson. “Not without a grassy knoll.”

  Isaac might have laughed, but he was too nervous, and Natasha was still staring daggers.

  “So maybe we can get rid of Isaac instead. What do you think?”

  “You okay with that, Mom?” Micah said, projecting.

  Rachel said nothing, so Micah said, “Absolutely.”

  “What about all of you?” Jameson asked the crowd. “Would it be okay if we got rid of Isaac Ryan?”

  Isaac found himself not liking the way Jameson had emphasized “rid.” The crowd shouted its ent
husiastic agreement.

  “Okay,” Jameson said. But then Natasha, who’d gone stage left, handed something to the illusionist. Jameson held it up: a long, sharp sword. “But when we do vanishing cabinet tricks, aren’t I supposed to slide swords through the box first?”

  The crowd cheered. The woman beside Isaac touched him again. Just checking to make sure you’re still there, her hand said. But Isaac’s eyes were on the sword, which he hadn’t known about until now. How was that supposed to work in a nonexistent cabinet?

  There was a flash, and Isaac’s eyes flicked to the Beam feed screen. It flickered again, to black for a moment. The lights flickered to match. Heads looked up and around. Probably part of the act. At some point, there’d be a big distraction, and Isaac would slip away, maybe replaced by his hologram. Seemed like the switcharoo would be easier if anyone had bothered to tell Isaac what was supposed to happen.

  The screen flickered again. Now others noticed, moving eyes from the stage to the screen before looking back.

  The hand touched Isaac again, possibly anticipating the same trick. He snapped his head around to glare at the woman, barely restraining himself from slapping the hand away.

  The screen showed Carter Vale. But it wasn’t Carter in the crowd or Carter from old footage. It appeared to be Carter Vale from a few moments ago, as seen through Isaac’s eyes. A few people noticed then looked at Isaac and Vale in turn.

  “Watch your control,” Micah hissed. “Clear your damned mind!”

  Isaac wanted to spit back that if something was happening, it wasn’t his goddamned fault if nobody had bothered to tell him what was coming, or what to practice.

  The image of Vale vanished, and the normal Beam feed resumed. Isaac’s eyes lingered on the screen, feeling like his fly was unzipped. Had what the screen just shown been a memory of Isaac’s? How was that possible? Was something inside the room (or inside his head) somehow reading his mind and showing it to the room? He couldn’t stand the thought of his head as an open vault.

  He met Micah’s eyes and tried breathing slower, but his heart rate had doubled.

  Jameson seemed flustered. He wagged the sword to retrain the crowd’s attention then handed it to Micah.