by Ellen Clary
And even if he were able to get nanobot distribution worldwide, he still had the issue of the sheer numbers. His preference was for every infected, non-qualifying person to have a nanobot-caused heart attack and immediately fall over dead. If that were to happen, he would have a disposal problem that had never, ever been faced. Even the Devoties of long ago had a disposal problem after they killed thirty-three million people, and that wasn’t all at once. Corpses are an immediate health risk, and even if they were to sequester large parts of the world, the hazard would be off the charts.
So square one beckoned again, and he took another sip of wine. Much as he wanted to have New Earth begin as soon as possible, he could see he had two choices. Take out selected geographical areas and risk getting caught. If he was willing to be patient, then it would be far more effective to create attrition. Or, what if he were to make everyone sterile? He actually would only have to make half the people sterile. Women have a lot of help with their fertility but men less so, and they’re less inclined to seek help and often didn’t know if there was a problem. What if he could find a way for the nanobots to influence the sperm to not even be interested in ova? That way, during a physical exam a man’s sperm would look normal. The distribution method could be slower, and it would be a long time before anyone noticed there was a problem. He was forty-five and young enough that he might live to see the effect.
A bit of sap in the log popped, burning blue for a time. He breathed in and stretched his arms. He considered what they had already accomplished. They had learned how to kill with the nanobots by shutting down or changing a vital body function. Then they had figured out how to make the bot smarter about what they attacked, and they had succeeded in controlling them from a distance. And he managed to do it without his workers actually knowing the criteria of the project. He had turned it around into a health-monitoring project and neglected to tell them about the opposite pole. All this in and of itself would be more than enough for any “evil genius” just looking to kill a lot of folks, but that was too shortsighted for him. Killing wasn’t his preoccupation. He wanted a sustainable future. That was his main goal and his moral obligation, and to have a pile of bodies around seemed an excellent way to bring his neo-future to a new end. No, planned attrition was the best way to achieve this. The tricky part would be to convince his followers to be patient, especially Adam. Adam: so brilliant, so passionate, but so impulsive. What to do about Adam?
CHAPTER 36:
Amy, Markus, and the Feds
AMY, WITH Lars, flew up to the Choran office for one of their regular check-in status visits. When they walked into the office, Markus looked up and said, “Greetings, Earthlings.”
Markus had slightly scattered but not unkempt, curly, dark brown hair and bright brown eyes that always seemed to be chuckling at something. He had a permanent five o’clock shadow, even if he’d shaved an hour ago. One time he had tried to grow a beard, but gave up after a week because he wound up with what he described as a series of disputed borders.
Markus had lived in the northwestern city of Soundside until two years ago, when a breakup with his girlfriend prompted him to volunteer for working in the smaller, more inland location. Amy didn’t understand his choice but tried to refrain from judging him too often, and he and Steve had developed this teasing relationship that was likely not to go anywhere but was fun to watch.
The Choran City office was in a former bakery that still smelled of bread and sugar. Next door was a bowling alley, with the police station across the street. When asked why they weren’t in the police station, the answer was always: they wanted a window.
“Hi, Markus. How goes?” Looking down at his cream-colored golden retriever, she said, “Hi, Chloe,” and rubbed her proffered head.
“Pretty quiet up here.”
Amy asked, “Steal any drug lord dogs?”
“Not today, we save that for when you’re here for a while.”
“Oh, lucky me. Enjoying your spring?”
“The winter was way cold this time. I am rethinking the wisdom of being here, but you knew that.”
“Well, I would be thinking that, but I’m letting you work that out for yourself. But Chloe isn’t a Malamute, and I don’t see a dog sled yet.”
“Nice try. In this area, it would be an ATV or a snowmobile.”
Sitting down at his desk, Amy asked, “So tell me something that I need to be here for in person.”
Holding both arms out wide, he responded, “The fresh air and wide-open spaces with bits of beautiful mountain around, and the sought-after burning smell of gunpowder.”
Looking back at her and dropping his arms he said, “The Feds have us keeping half an eye on those containers that you tracked up here.”
“Really? The ones that Harris followed? Why? No dogs in there that we know of.”
“The Feds are looking into ways to understand more of what’s going on there. The Tomasians are situated on a poorly producing farm, so they’re thinking that it’s not about growing things.”
“Or maybe it is and they need all the help they can get.”
“They figured out that one of them is a dog lover and they’re wondering if there’s any way we can help. I told them I knew just the person for the job.”
Amy had that sinking feeling as Markus made that significant, expectant pause. She decided just to say nothing and wait and see how long he could take it. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight in her chair.
Markus sat there smiling that dumb grin.
“You didn’t,” she finally said.
“You’re the perfect choice.”
“Let me count the ways. I don’t live here. I don’t know what they want, and most importantly: I’m not a spy.”
“You’ll fit right in.”
“Eff off, Markus.” She reached down and petted the golden retriever. “Hi, Chloe, let me talk to the sane one here.”
“They say they’ll give you the training you need.”
“Oh right. Instant spy. I don’t think so, Markus. Why don’t we talk about lost people you’ve found or something?”
“You know all that already.”
“Well, I guess my work is done here.”
“Seriously, Amy, I think you’re the person for this job.”
“Seriously, Markus.”
“Really.”
“No.”
“They want to at least talk to you about it.”
“No.”
“They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”
“What? I have a job and a life down south, you might recall.”
“I’ll let you tell them ‘no.’ I did ask Catherine about it and she said she’d consider it.”
“Am I the last one to know about this?”
“Want to take the dogs out for a bit?”
“I’m taking the dogs out and you can stay here. Lars, Chloe. Let’s go. Maybe the bowling alley will let us play fetch there.”
Amy took the dogs and a couple of tennis balls out to a field that was in the back. She couldn’t believe that Markus volunteered her for such a thing. Well, actually she could. She would throw one ball in one direction and the other the other way and it mostly worked, though sometimes both dogs would take off for the one and she’d throw the second one after them. In the middle of all this, she called Catherine.
When Catherine appeared on the screen, Amy said, “Hi, Catherine. Markus is telling me that he volunteered me for some spy thing up here.”
Catherine smiled and nodded. “Yes, the Feds are looking to find a way to get close to one of the religious group’s followers who works and lives on the grounds and who is a dog lover.”
“But why me? I’m no spy and I have to get back down south.”
“I’m sure we can work out something part-time once they figure out a pattern that this guy follows.”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a spy.”
“I think they’re going to keep it p
retty basic. Like some regular dog-park chit chat.”
“You know how deep dog park conversations are. ‘Look how muddy my dog is. Rover, stop digging that hole.’ Or the local sports team. ‘How do you think the Mighty Cockroaches are going to do this year?’” Amy went on, “I can’t believe you’re going along with this.”
“You might be able to do some good here,” Catherine said.
Amy paused. Catherine knew just how to say the thing to convince her or at least get her to listen. “I don’t think I’m the right choice for this.”
Catherine touched her thumb and index finger to her lower lip, pinching it a little, looking down as if in deep thought. She looked up and said, “Why don’t you tell the Feds your reservations, and they can better tell if you’d be a good fit for this?”
Unable to come up with a reasonable argument, Amy said, “Well, I can at least talk to them.”
“Good luck, and call me with any questions.” They ended the call.
Amy came back in with two panting dogs and two dirty tennis balls.
Markus pointed to a trash bin that was full of dirty tennis balls.
Amy remembered that this was the balls-to-be-cleaned section. If she remembered, they all got dumped into the washing machine all at once, which made an amazing racket. “You know they have special tennis-ball washers.”
Markus snorted. “For the discerning dog, I see.” Looking out the window he said, “Our Federales are here.”
Amy peered out and saw a fit, forty-year-old, dark-brown-haired man with lighter colored skin, but with hard, dark, shaded features around his eyes and eyebrows. He had a serious, slightly tired, but engaged expression, wore a suit (Amy realized that it seemed like only the Feds still wore suits), and walked with authority. The other person was an equally fit, slightly younger woman with rich, dark brown skin with warm undertones and a more open expression. She was also in dark slacks and a nice coat, though it looked more natural on her.
Markus opened the door. “Greetings, welcome.” Amy could tell he was resisting bowing as he let them in.
Amy stood up and they all shook hands.
Showing his ID, the man entering said, “Hi, I’m Agent Jack Hawthorne, and this is Agent Vivian Smith.”
Markus guided them into a meeting room.
As they were sitting down, Markus said, “We actually have halfway decent coffee; may I get you all some?”
Jack declined, but Vivian accepted and Amy said, “I’d love one, I already have a cup in there somewhere.”
Markus said, “That’s okay, I’ve just given you another one. Cream?” Amy said yes, but Vivian said black was fine.
“Thanks, Markus,” Vivian said, accepting the cup.
“Yes, thank you,” Amy said.
Jack pulled a tablet out of his bag. “I understand that you have been told a little of what we’re hoping to accomplish.”
Amy took a breath. “Only a little.”
Jack tapped the tablet a few times, turned it around, and slid it across the table.
“This is Mark Johnson, who goes by the name of Tomas and leads a small religious group called the Tomasians. He dropped the ‘h,’ we guess to distinguish himself from the historical Thomas whose teachings they are focused on. Thomas was Christus’s disciple, who Tomas, formerly Johnson, claims was the twin of Christus.”
Amy gave him a skeptical look, but didn’t say anything. She tried not to think of some smart remark that Steve would have made, like “good and evil twins.”
“Tomas has been publicly saying that the world’s population is entirely too large and that we should be finding ways to reduce the environmental pressure on the Earth. He carefully hasn’t gotten specific, though he says he fully supports the Planet Aires colonization and the Lunar community.
“What’s caught our attention is that he seems to be taking quite an interest of late in scientific development, particularly in the medical uses of nanotechnology.”
Amy looked up, her eyes hardening. “His group is the one making all those demands? The ones who attacked Herman and Lincoln?”
“We don’t know yet,” Jack replied.
“But you suspect.”
Jack did sort of a half-shrug and nodded.
“This is where you could help us.”
Amy, feeling incredulous, asked “How? Markus said something about one of the coworkers liking dogs.”
Jack took the tablet back and tapped until another face appeared.
Vivian spoke. “This is Brian Robertson, who goes by ‘Adam’—they all seem to have taken on Biblical names. He is one of five people who do scientific work for the order, as far as we can tell. We know that he takes his dog to the park regularly and he loves his dog. We’re wondering if someone with a dog would have better luck getting close to him, as he doesn’t seem to have much of a social life outside the order’s property except for the dog park.”
Amy put her fingertips on her temples and pondered the photo. “You’ve been to dog parks, yes?” Vivian nodded. “And you know how deep and meaningful dog park conversations are?” Vivian smiled and Jack appeared to be attempting something similar.
“It is a long shot, but we’re running out of things to try, short of illegal bugging.”
Amy said, “And that’s tricky with no windows.”
“We think no windows was no accident,” Vivian answered.
“But why me? Why not some local dog owner who knows how to be a spy?”
“We don’t have an empathic division yet.”
Amy said, trying to refrain from being flip, “I don’t quite see how that makes a difference.”
Jack said, “From what we understand, you might not know how to be a spy, but you’re pretty good at getting your dog to help you manipulate people.” That slight smile played over his face.
Amy looked down, a slight blush starting to creep over her face. Talking to the floor, she said, “I could blow this whole thing.”
“We can teach you the basics in the city of Soundside, and help you come up with a cover story.”
“I have a coworker named Yolanda who would be awesome at this.”
Vivian smiled. “We’re familiar with Yolanda, and I agree, but there is one problem.”
“With Yolanda?” Amy asked, the incredulity clear in her voice.
Jack bit his lip a moment, cleared his throat, and said, “Not with Yolanda, with them.”
Amy looked quizzical. “But they haven’t even met.”
“You see, and this is awkward, but they have issues with skin color.”
“Really? Still? But there really isn’t a white or a black anymore.”
Vivian lifted her hand, palm up. “And you know it isn’t for lack of trying in some circles.”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never really met anyone who cared that much. So they want everyone to go back to being in one, what’s the term, race?”
“Well, they’d like to, but we think Tomas has decided it is time to be realistic and that he wants to hold more to his smaller world population idea instead. Because of this, he’s willing to work with mixed-race people, which is most everyone, but they’re still prejudiced in favor of lighter-skinned people, which would make you a better candidate than Yolanda.”
Amy leaned back, shaking her head. “This is just nuts.” She looked up and leaned forward, reengaging. “How much time are we talking about here?”
Jack met her eyes. “You’ve been certified to use the self-flying plane that the empaths have?”
“Well yeah, but I’d hate to hog it.”
Jack looked at the tablet, but Amy could tell he was doing it out of habit and not reading it. “Catherine, your director, tells me that she’s applied to buy a second one. If you can use the plane, you can come up here two or three times a week during the day and then go back home the same day. We’ll have you spend a day with our trainers in Soundside, and then you’ll be working with a local handler here.”
“Part-time spy?”
<
br /> “Part-time spy. What do you think?”
“I think I’d like to think about it.”
“Could you tell us by tomorrow?”
Amy, looking slightly panicked, said, “Uh, yes. I think.”
Jack reached out his hand and Amy took it. “Thanks for being willing to consider this.”
After they shook hands, Vivian reached out her hand, and Amy then took hers, too. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you could really help us out here. You can make a difference.” Vivian smiled and Amy realized how genuine she felt. She didn’t feel she was being sold on something—at least not too hard.
They stood up. Jack said, “You can talk about this to anyone at your work, but please limit it to them.”
Amy also stood up; she had to concentrate on her feet to keep from falling over from incredulity, but managed to say, “Okay.”
Markus walked them out. Amy sat on the floor to commune with Lars, massaging her fingers into his neck. His eyes half-closed in appreciation.
Markus walked back in with a slightly mischievous look and said, “I spy a spy with my little eye.”
“Can’t hear you, Markus,” and she buried her face in Lars’s fur.
CHAPTER 37:
Amy Considers
AMY LOADED Lars into his plane crate, strapped herself in, and programmed the plane to go back home. The plane, once told where to go, could almost do the job itself, but sometimes decisions had to be made by a person. She had been required to go through training and certification and she had to be in or near the pilot’s seat while the plane was flying, but still it was nothing like actually flying the plane, which Harris said he’d teach her someday.
As the Piper taxied to the runway to get in line awaiting takeoff clearance, she considered the whole day. She was glad that she didn’t actually have to fly the plane or she’d wind up on an island somewhere.
