The Second Rising

by Kevin Douglas

  The alleyway was empty, no one to point a finger at. The butcher was long gone. He knew just how to leave things. Matthew, completely exasperated and frustrated, collapsed down to this hands and knees and dropped the gun, then spoke to himself as the gravity of the situation sunk into his semi-alert mind.

  “Oh Shiiiiit!”

  CHAPTER 16

  T he last few days had been busy but productive, a mix of shopping, talking, and walking. The weather was beautiful, making Leo and Sarafina want to stay forever. The beginning of Leo’s plan had been executed; it was a feat that was made possible in part by Sarafina. He had several land owners to speak to and not enough time to land them all given the time crunch put on him by Bartholemeau.

  Leo preferred he be the one to go around and make all the deals himself, so his decision to let Sara go in his stead was difficult. While she was a spendthrift with his money, he had to admit she was amazing, pulling off a couple of deals that were essential. Whether he liked it or not, her looks couldn’t have hurt in getting things done, and his credit card bill from the clothing stores she visited were sure to shock him later.

  Her many looks in the beautiful, elegant, classy clothing of the region gave her an exotic appeal to Leo, who already found her attractive. Mixing business with pleasure was, as he had heard, ‘never a good idea’, and he didn’t override this advice that was given to him by many over the years.

  He was keeping their relationship professional for now, but it was clear they both had feelings for each other beyond that of just a friend.

  With the land plots having been bought, agreed upon, or arrangements made, the entire area underneath the supposed mimetite mass was owned by Leo. Whether or not this was as significant as Leo suspected remained to be seen. He knew he had to make a choice and believed his dreams seemed more than an overactive imagination. Every dream since moving into Halaby was seemingly predictive and directly relevant to issues he wasn’t aware of prior.

  He had made his choice, he would work with Ms. Sullivan. She was true to her word; however, Leo wasn’t an idiot, the stakes were high and the potential for a change of heart from Ms. Sullivan was within reason.

  His first step had been his back-door code that allowed him to shut her data center down at will. And his second ‘cover your ass’ measure had been his land purchases in Croatia. His displeasure with Mr. Sullivan and his bold assumptive attitude led him to believe it would be in his best interest to trust the man’s warnings.

  Leo would keep a safe distance, rather than suffer his wrath. Although, Leo felt he had some leeway and say in things with Mrs. Sullivan, with Mr. Sullivan, it was totalitarianism. Leo figured he could give her the mimetite she wanted and in exchange, she would tell him what happened to his father. He wanted to find out the truth, and based on the pictures left on Patrick’s camera, he knew she was present during his father’s detainment.

  One thought that Leo couldn’t push out of his head was the holographic diagram Mr. Sullivan had shown him. Leo had no way of knowing if the robot’s intentions were malicious or benevolent, but he had confirmed Mr. Sullivan hadn’t lied, it was robotic.

  He’d taken the memory board from the ruined BOT to learn its origins and was dumbfounded when he saw its creation date.

  He couldn’t make sense of the year and assumed it was a typo, but the fact still remained that the butcher wasn’t human.

  Cooperating with Mrs. Sullivan was something Leo would have to navigate carefully. He didn’t want to fully tangle himself again or jeopardize his bright future with New Wave. However, any help Leo gave her possibility advanced her butcher; if he was to work with her more, he’d need to understand this robot fully.

  Leo had a few hours till Sarafina came back and decided to get a bite to eat; Sara was out enjoying some shopping, and she told Leo to expect a surprise. He had already planned a secret special diner for the two of them on their last night in Croatia. He thought of them as a couple even though they weren’t truly an item.

  His feelings for her were pressing, this whole affair felt like a honeymoon and business trip combined, with a final farewell culminating tonight. The decision had been made that she would stay behind temporarily, partially to keep an eye on things but primarily for her safety. They both recognized the potential risks and inherent dangers of going back and directly involving themselves with the Sullivans.

  While it was Leo who was dealt the hand and must play the game to get answers, Sarafina was linked as well. They both had semi-intimate knowledge of the Sullivan’s and had been to both mansions. If captured Sara would give them a way to squeeze and pressure Leo; they’d aimed to keep her out of the equation.

  Leo pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through his call history. He hovered his finger over Mrs. Sullivan’s number, hesitant to reveal any details of his location, or success with finding mimetite. He wasn’t eager to reveal any of this information, but he wanted to confront her about the butcher and learn information about his uses. Leo stroked his beard like he was obtaining knowledge from it, focused and perplexed about the robot’s origins.

  “Stupid!” Leo said to himself.

  He reached into his shoulder bag sitting on the chair beside him and took out the New Wave tablet. He didn’t realize he may have the answers already, he had the Butcher’s programming file loaded on the tablet. He could browse his coding and learn a little more about him. Leo turned on the tablet and tapped the screen, quickly found the file manager, then located the Butcher’s source file. He tapped again to launch the file, but nothing happened, just a blinking icon notifying him it was processing.

  He couldn’t imagine the file was very large, it would just be programming language, giving the BOT instructions. He hovered over the icon and long pressed the file to get its details. The details revealed a file size that was impossibly big for programming, 900 gigs. Leo strummed his goatee, perplexed over its size when the computer chimed, telling him the file had launched.

  “Would you like a drink sir?” the waiter asked.

  “Umm…”

  Leo blinked to clear his eyes, then looked one last time at the file size before answering.

  “Yes, yes I believe I need a drink.”

  “What shall you have sir?”

  “Surprise me,” Leo said, already lost in his thoughts again.

  He wondered how a file that size was packed on such a small circuit within the butcher. Also, was the question of how it fit on this tablet unless the file was somehow being accessed from a New Wave cloud server.

  Leo snapped away for a moment looking out onto the beautiful Adriatic Sea, and enjoyed sight of the beautiful blue waters far below crashing on the cliffs. The small café where he was had a terrace that sat on the edge of a cliff one hundred feet above the water. Like a picture-perfect postcard, it was similar to the restaurant Leo had picked for the surprise dinner with Sarafina later. Breaking away from the breathtaking view, Leo quickly got the properties of the tablet’s hard disk space revealing a six-terabyte drive.

  Damn, this tablet must cost a fortune. It was unheard of for a tablet to have such large compact storage in this day, and the speed with which it loaded the file was amazing. I’d better be careful with this thing.

  Leo didn’t know what language the program was written in, wondering in what the tablet would open the file, he was surprised to see it pull up in an orderly display. He had expected perhaps a jumble of millions of lines of code, instead the file was broken up into functions, each with its own corresponding folder.

  This must be specialized software that New Wave used rather than an industry standard software, perfect for seeing how the Butcher ticked. His coding of E-frond had been in this program as well, and he was amazed how organized this enormous file was.

  He wanted to learn how the thing operated, what its programming was, how it was organized, how it accomplished a simulated intelligence. Lastly, he wanted to know its intent. Was it the deviant machine Mr. Sullivan suggested? Leo had
to admit his gut wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of a fully sentient robotic creature.

  Inherently, any BOT wasn’t malicious or bent on domination and destruction, that depended on its programmers. Literal instructions for them sometimes broke moral or logical norms to humans as their actions only followed their precise programming.

  Leo wasn’t sure what worried him more, a mindless robot not knowing any better and unable to decide or an intelligent BOT able to make that choice. It was no wonder with a BOT as complex as the butcher that its code would be so extensive and enormous. Leo needed to know if this butcher would live up to the name Mr. Sullivan had attributed to him, the Butcher. He had to start with the roots and work his way up to systems at the top that were more open for interpretation by the host.

  Leo pulled up the root directory that contained all of the main critical systems, so he could get an understanding of its core.

  Expecting a main coding file, he was surprised to see several sub folders in the directory leading to files pertaining to certain aspects of the main system. This was abnormal but was a very smart setup. He was impressed. Instead of the whole unit shutting down, the damaged or irreparable systems could be turned off independently and still allow the BOT to function as normal as possible. Survival seemed to be at its very core. Leo scrolled through the heading of systems, when he heard the waiter walking his way with his drink. Cautiously, he turned over the tablet.

  “Your drink sir. Anything else I can get you? Lunch perhaps?”

  “No thanks.”

  Leo waited for the waiter to leave before picking up the tablet and glanced around the balcony at the other tables. There were several people dining at various tables but none in close proximity.

  He hadn’t a clue why individuals dining in Croatia would know what he was looking at, let alone care, so he authenticated the tablet and continued looking at the headings. Leo paid attention to each heading; security, hydraulics, mechanics, electrical, memory, CPU, disbursement, motor function, defense. Leo paused after reading the last heading. It wasn’t unthinkable that the BOT may have some form of defense, but typically it would be in the form of security; that function already had its own heading.

  Leo touched the defense heading and a sequence of codes pulled up, revealing more than just self-destructive do’s and don’ts and harm avoidance. An asset of a BOT like the butcher would understandably be expensive, and when you factor in the tension between the Sullivan’s, one could understand precaution.

  Leo would find out more when he worked his way up the decision-making trees how defense was handled, determined, and defined. When it came to robot to robot confrontation he understood the need for protection, but for living breathing humans, it had better have a different set of rules.

  Leo saw out of the corner of his eye the waiter was coming his way again, and instead of putting the tablet down he put it in standby mode, sending the screen to black. The dark screen acted like a mirror reflecting what was behind him, revealing a man sitting at a table, staring intently in his direction.

  Leo remembered the gentleman vaguely from minutes ago when he scanned the balcony. The man had been sipping a drink, distracted with his phone, texting, now his focus was solely on Leo. He had the feeling during the last week someone might be watching them but was too focused with the land acquisitions to pay it attention.

  The waiter’s body blocked the reflection and Leo’s thoughts drifted away, remembering the strange car that passed them when they first arrived in Croatia. Annoyed he had lost sight of the mystery man, Leo quickly spoke to the waiter.

  “I told you I’m not eating.”

  “My apologies but I must ask, are you by chance a Mr. Krueger?”

  Strange a waiter from across the sea should know his name by happenstance, Leo was nervously curious.

  “That depends on who wants to know.”

  “Well if you are Mr. Krueger, I have a message someone wishes to be delivered to you.”

  Relieved, Leo realized this must be Sara’s surprise for his last day here.

  “I am Mr. Krueger. What is the message?”

  The waiter drew out an envelope from his suit pocket and extended it to a confused Leo.

  “It’s not that kind of message sir, it looks like someone still believes in the art of letter writing.”

  Confused once again Leo took the small envelope from the man.

  “Thank you.”

  As the waiter left, Leo hesitated before opening the letter. Unsure of its contents he glanced around once again toward the table with the man who had been watching him, but to his surprise it was empty, nothing but an empty glass.

  The waiter had distracted him long enough and now he couldn’t confront the mysterious diner. Leo decided to see what the letter was all about, perhaps his paranoia was just getting to him. He looked over the beautifully calligraphed envelope, Leonard appeared in the center. He flipped over the envelope and carefully opened it.

  Dear Leonard,

  I know you’re probably wondering why you’re getting a message delivered to you half way around the world, at an exquisite café, so let me start off by saying it’s for your own good.

  By now you may know, to a certain extent, what you’re up against, but you need to be reminded. Up until a few minutes ago, you were feeling one hundred percent safe in Croatia, thinking no one would have the faintest clue of your location, but you’re wrong. If I can find you, you have to assume she can as well.

  I know you’re thinking you hold a few cards that can be played at the right time if things go south, but you’re not seeing that you’re the ace in the hole.

  I don’t know how you’ve decoded finite resources, but she has you eating out of her hands. That mineral is just what she needs, along with your mind. The mimetite sample you have prepared to bring back to her is a mistake, and one I hope you won’t make. She won’t have you traipsing around all by yourself any longer. You’re too valuable. She has someone following you here as you’ve already noticed. She won’t be happy you’ve bought up the land, but that’s only a minor nuisance, she won’t let you leave without an escort, and your lady friend is not safe either. Do something that she doesn’t like and Sarafina is half way around the world where you can’t defend her.

  Tonight, is your last night here in Croatia. He will no doubt meet with you and eliminate any company you have to ensure you get on the flight with the material. She has already abducted a former employee of ours, a metallurgist, and imprisoned him until his work is done.

  I’ve taken steps to negotiate his return, but she’ll do the same to you, only she won’t be able to let you leave, alive anyhow. I’m sure you’re hesitant to trust my word, so I’ll give you a measure of good faith by eliminating your tail here. Enjoy your romantic night, dine in peace without worry, and return confident tomorrow and join me. In return I will guarantee protection for you and Sarafina. However, if you return, deny me your help, and accelerate her destructive plans, we will be enemies, and I won’t protect a foe. This is the last time I will plead with you Leonard. Actions must be met with actions.

  CHAPTER 17

  D awn had just passed and a light fog had set on rural New York state, making the early morning lighting a challenge on the eyes for motorists. GPS coordinates were relayed and input into the BOT’s tracking system as it made its way across town, sneaking undetected to a rural state route where it awaited transport. Collapsed by the roadside, the small BOT lay looking like a piece of leftover shrapnel from an unlucky motorist that got too close to the guard rail. The creature scanned the occasional eighteen-wheeler as it passed, determining the truck’s destination route via its onboard GPS unit. Finally, he found one heading in the general direction he needed to go.

  The limp, monkey-like BOT became rigid, then coalesced into a sphere. Powered by a magnetic gyroscope, it rolled itself up to speed near the big rig’s rear bumper. Now within range the BOT reversed its magnetic pull, and the force lifted him in
to the air.

  Drawn quickly to the metal bumper, he slammed against the hunk of metal with a loud ping. Unable to read its GPS coordinates in its sphere shape, the BOT released his tight disorienting magnetic interference.

  The ball sprouted arms that gripped the bumper with its claws and uncurled enough to reveal one of the monkey’s large eyeballs. The open eye stared and scanned the skies to verify the truck’s bearing was still headed in the right direction.

  When confident, the monkey shut its eyelid to avoid detection and rested. It rode motionless on the bumper, blending in, looking like a lost ornament until it was forced to jump ship when the truck diverted away from its route seventy-five miles later. The creature acquired a new vehicle quickly and attached itself, hunkering down, it relaxed on the new rig. If this truck stayed on course, it would take him within a few miles of his destination.

  . . . .

  Marty sat grinning ear to ear after sending out his last message. He had initiated his creature’s activation with the sequence of numbers he had dialed during his short window of communication. Marty hadn’t built Gretchen’s clock entirely for aesthetic beauty; he had reason to question his dealings with the Sullivan’s and worried for the safety of his daughter.

  He had spared no expense for his BOT, as its parts were taken directly from the Sullivan’s research and development lab. Marty used his extraordinary metalworking skills along with stolen behavioral coding he had taken during initial systems testing for Mr. Sullivan.

  The creature’s intelligence was negligible, a rudimentary version, meant only to test Marty’s first prototypes. He would have stolen a full version such as the Butcher off Ms. Likvold’s server, but those personas could only be extracted by her. Marty had been forbidden to touch all final profiles. He had put what would function mechanically, with the limited function AI that they had provided. Marty kept the project secret from them, claiming the missing extra parts were failed modifications that he had discarded.