“Only three percent? We can cut more than that.”
Gareth shrugs. “Perhaps. We’ve eliminated buses and other motor vehicles. Household heating and refrigeration are at record lows. What else can we ration?”
Stan frowns. “Listen, the President is holding an Energy Summit next week, and he wants action items to lower the price of fuel. I need you to come to that meeting with solutions.”
“Yes, sir,” Gareth says confidently, “I know just the person who can help us—Manos Kharon from GoldRock. He’s an out-of-the-box type of thinker. He helped us design the Information Tariffs.”
“Let’s hope he can get us out this shithole.”
“He will, sir. He’s a genius. He implemented Google’s new policies flawlessly despite opposition from their CEO.”
Stan stares into Gareth’s eyes. “Opposition? Who dares to question our authority?”
Gareth pales and sweat appears on his brow. “Bethany Andrews.”
Stan’s face flushes in rage. “A woman? You’re telling me a female executive disobeyed her government?”
“…that’s correct, sir. She opposed the tariffs.”
A spokesman enters the Oval Office. “One minute till we go live.”
“Let’s talk about this after the speech,” Stan says before abruptly walking away.
Gareth takes a deep breath and calms himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He walks along the blue carpet and passes the row of cameras, approaching a group of government officials standing at the back. He keeps a distance from his boss.
The room grows silent. The President’s desktop shines like a diamond in the floodlights. A Marine stands at attention as a door opens.
“Ten seconds…”
The President walks into the Oval Office. Cameras flutter as he sits at the desk, his face framed by two American flags in the background. The lustrous light magnifies his white hair and worn features. His eyes visibly tired, he makes no gestures and stares into a teleprompter.
“Three, two, one…”
“My fellow Americans, World War III continues. In space and on the ground, our enemies engage in hostile actions that threaten our way of life. They underestimate the resolve of the American people. We stand committed to defending our homeland at all costs.
“In the north, the Russians continue their bloody campaign in Alaska, invading our precious lands and seizing our Arctic refineries. Their goal is plain to see—to control the world’s supply of oil and natural gas. They believe the American people will stand idly by as their armies plunder our resources. They are mortally mistaken. This aggression will be the death knell of our enemies!”
Gareth hears a murmur and turns to find several Cabinet members with their fists in the air, mouthing, “USA! USA! USA!”
“Recently, we have turned the tide against the foe, retaking their spoils and pushing them further back to their rotten homes. In Greenland, we have stopped the enemy’s advance and taken back the land. We will not end our struggle until the Russians surrender unconditionally!”
Stan gestures to Gareth with a thumbs-up.
“In the east, the Chinese hostility continues. Our enemy threatens the American way of life in space and on the Internet. They hack our schools and companies to steal our information. They take our intellectual property and rebrand our knowledge as weapons of war. For too long, we’ve allowed our innovations to be freely distributed to our enemies, who turn around and use them to sabotage our homeland.”
The President pauses for effect as reporters and staff lean in, their microphones and cameras inching closer to the Commander-in-Chief. He lifts his chin and raises his voice.
“Nowhere is this more evident than on Mars. Many years ago, we believed that the red planet belonged to all human beings. We formed alliances with the international community with the hopes of expanding civilization beyond Earth. Those aspirations are threatened by an aggressive China that threatens our existence in space.”
Gareth removes a pair of smartglasses from his jacket pocket and places them on his face. He opens his messages and drafts a note with his eyes. “Manos, be prepared to go live. The President is speaking about China.”
“The Chinese want to claim Mars as their own. They have attacked our military and sabotaged our exploration efforts, trying to weaken our resolve. We have no choice but to defend ourselves. My fellow citizens, we cannot allow this theft and manipulation to continue any longer. We must protect American ingenuity and innovation. We must not allow information to leave our border and end up in the hands of the enemy.”
Gareth receives a message from Manos. “China is about get smashed.”
“Today I am announcing a new offensive for the conflict with China—The Information Tariffs. Starting today, our enemies will lose access to American technology that help them wage war. We will institute protections on Internet search, computer software and mobile operating systems. Our enemies will pay a very high price to access the knowledge that has made America great. They will think twice about assaulting our beloved country.”
Gareth replies to Manos. “Go live with the tariffs now!”
“The American people prosper with free information, but when our enemies use our data as weapons against us, we have no choice but to make defensive reforms to our systems. Beginning today, you will notice changes to the tools you use to access and share information. These are small sacrifices we Americans will make for the War. One day we will defeat our enemies and reclaim our way of life. Until that day, we must fight onward and defend our freedoms. God Bless you, and God Bless the United States of America.”
Camera flashes flicker as the President stands and heads for the exit.
“When will the War end?” a reporter shouts.
The door closes and the room erupts in chatter. The floodlights shut off, and the tension dissipates.
A message appears in Gareth’s field of view. “Incredible speech. Honored to be a part of this.”
Gareth writes back. “Thank you, Manos. Have you gone live?”
“The new Google platform is up and running.”
“Excellent. I’ll have another project for you soon.”
“About what?”
“Energy.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Gareth puts his glasses away. As he walks from the Oval Office, someone taps his shoulder and pulls him to the side, where Stan waits for him.
“What a speech that was,” Gareth says to his boss.
Stan makes a fist. “That’s what I call fire in the belly. We need more of that around here.”
“We do.”
“Have you implemented the President’s measures?”
“Yes, Google’s new operating system was rolled out minutes ago.”
“Perfect. I hope it cripples China.”
“Yes, sir. In one instant, they will lose access to the Internet. The changes for our citizens will be minimal.”
Stan leans closer. “Listen, if I hear that another CEO opposed our war measures, there will be consequences, do you understand? It sickens me that a female executive thinks she can stand up to the CIA. What was her name?”
“Bethany Andrews.”
Stan’s face reddens. “We need to teach her a lesson.”
“She has been a thorn in our side, but we’ve implemented the tariffs despite her opposition.”
“I want her in jail, do you understand? She’s a liberal CEO who opposes the War. If she’s willing to sell out her country, she can’t be allowed to run an American firm. For all we know, she’s in bed with the Chinese.”
“Yes, sir, that’s possible.”
Stan shakes his head. “An enemy combatant at the helm of a mega corporation? It makes me sick to my stomach. We need to get rid of her immediately.”
Gareth stands erect. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do everything in your power to weaken her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You heard the President—Info
rmation is the new front in the War. If she’s not on our side, she can’t be in charge of the world’s largest technology company.”
10.
“YOUR WIFE is in the hospital.”
Anil presses the smartphone to his right ear and covers his left as a train runs past him in the Milpitas station. “Can I speak with her?”
He struggles to hear the nurse on the other end. “…her condition…”
“Hello?” Anil shouts.
“…unconscious…”
The call disconnects as the shoddy satellite signal disappears. Once a popular device, the twenty-year-old smartphone barely functions. He tries to open the Route app but the phone crashes and switches off.
I hate this old junk.
The subway terminal is dark. Foul-smelling steam rises from a vent as rats run across the tracks. A dim fluorescent lamp illuminates a vandalized map on a wall. Anil hears an incoming metro.
“Red line to Mountain View now approaching.”
He races to the map and scans it looking for San Jose Hospital, but the words are hidden under black graffiti. The train arrives and slows to a stop.
“All aboard. Doors closing.”
Panicked, Anil runs for the platform and reaches his arm out. The hatch slams on his body. “Please stand clear of the doors.” He wrestles with all his strength to get free and forces his way into the car, falling onto the floor.
Inside, a stench of urine overwhelms him. He looks up and makes eye contact with a haggard old man. “I know who you are!” the elder screams.
Anil stands to face the homeless guy. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”
The bum points his finger. “You’re the devil!”
Flustered, Anil ducks and runs to the next train car. He steps over empty cans and plastic trash, dodging past a couple screaming at each other. He walks through several more cars and looks back through the window until he no longer sees the man.
Breathing relief, he notices a subway map and scans it in search of San Jose Hospital, spotting it southwest of the metro stop. He tries to power on his smartphone but it does not respond.
How will I find Prisha?
The train stops in Santa Clara and Anil transfers to the green line. Ten minutes later, he arrives at the San Jose stop and finds an encampment occupying the platform. He exits and runs outside, heading southwest along a crumbling road. He cuts through an abandoned factory and crosses a rusty metal bridge over the Coyote River.
A hospital comes into view. Anil stops in the middle of an empty highway to catch his breath, slumping with his hands on his knees in the blistering heat.
Prisha, please be okay.
He stares down at the weeds growing from the cracked concrete, spotting faded white lines that once divided the automobile lanes. He pants as he tries to gather himself. Seconds later, he runs towards the emergency room.
Inside the cramped lobby, dozens of patients anxiously wait for a doctor. Short of breath, Anil approaches a reception area and talks to a speaker in the wall. “I’m here...for…Prisha Anaya.”
A slip of paper emerges from a slot. “Complete this form,” an A.I. voice says.
He scribbles on the document and holds in front of a camera. A visitor pass drops to the floor.
“Proceed to Unit 403.”
Anil places the sticker on his shirt and darts to the fourth floor. His heart beats madly as he approaches his wife’s room. He peers inside and sees her lying on a gurney. “Prisha!”
Her face is swollen and her eyes are closed. An IV line runs from her wrist to a bag of fluid hanging from a pole. A monitor tracks two pulses, one from Prisha and another from her baby.
Anil kisses his wife and presses his face against her hand. “Prisha, don’t leave me.”
Her eyes slowly open. “I won’t…” She grabs his hand and smiles.
He starts to cry. “I was so terrified! I thought the worst happened.”
“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”
“It’s fine, babe,” he says as he kisses her cheeks, “you don’t have to apologize.”
She whispers softly. “I went for a walk and I just…collapsed. Next thing I know I’m here at the hospital. They say I was out for an hour.”
“Is the baby okay?”
She stays quiet.
He wipes his tears and looks away, his hand trembling as he places it on his wife’s belly. “We’re gonna make it through this like we always do.”
“I hope so.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes before a doctor walks in. “Ms. Anaya, I have an update for you.”
Anil stands upright. “Hello Doctor, I’m Prisha’s husband. What’s the situation?”
“We’ve completed our tests, and it seems you fell and suffered a concussion. The baby is fine. You were lucky this time.”
Prisha sighs in relief. “Thank God.”
Anil grabs his wife’s hand. “Can she go home, Doctor?”
“Yes, you can leave the hospital in a few hours. I would advise strict bed rest until your delivery. Pre-eclampsia is a life-threatening medical problem. You have a high-risk pregnancy and it’s not safe to walk around unattended.”
The doctor draws the curtain and leaves. The whooshing sounds of the heart monitor fill the air. Anil closes his eyes and listens to his baby’s short, rapid pulses. “Our sweet baby is fine.”
She smiles. “You’ll be a great dad.”
“We will give her a good life. I’ll do whatever it takes to provide a bright future for her. She will be a shining star.”
Prisha tries to stand. “Let’s go home now.”
He guides her back down. “Relax. Just rest here for a few hours. I’ll stay with you.”
“But you’re missing work.”
He grabs his bag. “That’s not true, babe. I can do my job right here.”
He takes a seat and removes his laptop. He powers on the outdated machine and hands his wife a cup of artificial apple juice.
She rejects the offer. “No thanks. It tastes rotten.”
The screen loads and Anil projects his desktop on the wall. He loads a web browser and queries for “Pre-eclampsia.” An advertisement begins.
“Nano Greens is the best vertical garden for your home. With minimal water and sunlight, you’ll have basil, lettuce, and cabbage ready to eat when you want. Order today—”
“What the heck is that?” Prisha asks.
“Nano Greens? It seems like a good idea.”
“No, why did a commercial play just now?”
Anil nods. “Oh, that’s our new ad platform that launched today.”
She squirms. “You have to watch a clip every time you run a web search?”
He shrugs. “Yes, it’s part of the new Information Tariffs. They rolled it out for the War…”
“That’s ridiculous. How will watching ads help us win the War?”
“Don’t ask me. I’m not a politician.”
After a lag, the search results appear: “Pre-eclampsia is a pregnancy disorder characterized by high blood pressure and signs of organ damage.”
Anil looks at his wife. “This is a very serious condition.” He grabs her hand. “You have to be more careful, Prisha. Don’t go out on walks without someone to help you. I don’t want to lose you.”
She looks away. “I’ll be fine. Just do your work.”
He logs onto the Google portal and loads the blueprints for Project Titan. He scans his messages and calendar looking for tasks but finds them empty.
Prisha regards the projection. “Anil, what’s happening with the countdown?”
He turns to her. “Don’t know. I haven’t paid attention to it.”
“Can you track the signal?”
He loads the JPL website and opens the radio message from Barnard’s Star. A map of the Milky Way Galaxy appears on the wall. “Looks like it’s still counting down. After what happened last time, I don’t think we should mess with it.”
“When does it end?�
�� she asks.
“Next week.”
She stares at the star. “Will there be a gravity wave like last time?”
“Who knows?” Anil’s brows furrow. “I have a stupid question though. What exactly is a gravitational wave?”
“It’s a wave of gravity traveling through space.”
He scratches his head. “What do you mean?”
“Think of it as a form of energy.”
“Hmm…not sure I follow.”
She contemplates. “Let me put it this way. There are different forms of radiation in the universe. The most common are electromagnetic waves, which carry currents at the speed of light. Think of visible light, X-rays, or gamma rays—”
“That’s funny, we’re looking for a gamma-ray gun for Project Titan.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Do they make them anymore?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head, “don’t remind me about that. So you were saying…”
“Gravitational waves are another type of energy that fly at the speed of light. They were generated during catastrophic events like colliding black holes or collapsing stars.”
He rubs his chin. “Black holes? I still don’t follow you, Prisha.”
She sits upright. “A long time ago, Albert Einstein predicted gravitational waves in his theory of relativity. He believed that when a large mass accelerates, its gravity changes and forms ripples that radiate outward.” She cups her hands and rotates them in the air. “Imagine two black holes about to collide. Their gravities twist upon impact, sending waves out into space.”
“So the bottom line is that gravitational waves are energy?”
“Yes, just like light or X-rays.”
He stares intently at the laptop screen. Deep in thought, he stands and anxiously walks across the room, staring at the ground.
“What’s the matter?” she asks.
He looks up at his wife. “Can we ride a gravity wave?”
“What?”
“Can we harness that energy?”
She tilts her head. “Be more specific. What are you considering?”
He turns and paces. “Well, here we have this countdown that ends next week with a massive gravitational wave. What if we collect that current and use it here on Earth?”
Extinction 6 Page 8
