by John Carrick
“No, that’s okay. People were still, are still, sensitive about what happened in San Diego.”
“I can’t say I blame them, but General Cruthers was far more responsible than I was. I gave Stagwell’s administration what they asked for. I created the world’s safest weapon.”
“The concept is impossible. I think that’s what they couldn’t see. After San Diego, the people wanted a change. It’s okay that you didn’t visit. I understand. You were too strongly identified with the past. And besides, I made the decision to use your technology without talking to you first. I thought I knew what I was doing.”
“I know the feeling.”
“At any rate, I trust both Joe and Rudy. They’ve got the Republic’s best interest at heart.”
“Yes, well, they seem to think my death is just what the Republic needs right now.”
“Look, Doctor Fox, I wanted to meet you the other day, but I was running late and after you stormed out of here, well, I apologize for anything my nephew may have done. Yes, Joe is my nephew, and if he has taken the law into his own hands, he will see justice.
“However, he presented his case the other day, after you insulted my Chief of Staff and stormed out, and I have to tell you, he was rather convincing, plus he’s got Senators Miller and Clarke backing him.
“Of course, Secretary Croswell unraveled every argument with kindergarten logic. He even called him out for chasing a personal vendetta against you. I can’t recall the last time I saw this much passion over anything.”
“Well, I’m cutting Stanwood out of the loop,” Fox said. “Consider this a courtesy call.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Before I continue, do you have any questions for me?” Fox asked.
“Just one. Is it true, can you detonate terillium with a thought?”
“No, absolutely not. Never could, completely untrue.”
“But it’s theoretically possible?”
“Anything you can put into words is possible, even if only as a clever fraud. But I can’t do that, no.”
“The Micronix has opened up a lot of other possibilities though, hasn’t it?” Conway asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Fox replied.
“I have a couple of ideas that I’d like to run past you,” Conway said.
“Okay, go ahead, sir.”
“One is a seed vault, and not just seeds, but everything, I want to duplicate the sum total of all of mankind’s knowledge and learning and put backups around the solar system, in case something happens here, some kind of disaster.”
Fox smiled. “Did you know, that every time you use the Micronix, it runs a back up, on you?”
“You’re kidding?”
“Not at all.”
“Have you noticed, you never forget anything?” Fox asked.
“Never.” Conway smiled.
“Did you think that was you?” Fox grinned.
“Well…” Conway sputtered and laughed.
“Didn’t it start right after you took office?”
“I suppose it did…”
“How much do you know about the Centaur Project?”
“I admit, I was curious. I mean, you won the war in a single afternoon. It was over, there was no denying that.”
“But have you ever wondered how we got to that place, technologically.”
“The press on the tanks was pretty straightforward.”
“That was a smear campaign and full of half truth and lies. You understand that there were operators wired into the tanks, the Centaurs?”
“Yes, that much was clear.”
“Well, sir, what you may not realize is that the same nine operators were wired into all ten thousand of those machines.”
“I’m not sure I follow, doctor. I thought only seven went online.”
“Yes, Sir, that’s correct. My point is, how do I say this… We didn’t have pilots on standby. We…
“Project Epsilon, the mess that started all this, that was forty thousand convicted prisoners and some scientists, a tragedy, to be sure.
“In San Diego, the number was somewhere around one million two hundred thousand. A massacre, a genocide, a mass execution, committed by seven individuals, members of the 3AM Bodyguard program, also the core members of the Black Willow Team,” Fox said.
“How can that be possible?” Conway asked. “How can they be in two places at once? I mean; those soldiers were dead. They all died, hundreds of them, correct?” the President asked.
“Thousands,” Fox answered. “However… Well, we started project 3AM at the same time as the Black Willow trials. We graduated the same team through both programs, straight into the combat exercises and fast tracked them out into the field.”
“Explain.”
“3AM was billed as the search for the perfect bodyguard, to that end, we offered wounded soldiers a second chance, outfitting them with cybernetic prosthesis.”
“I heard about that.”
“Unfortunately, legal oversight decided to handcuff us. They tied up the project with a maze of red tape and bureaucracy, so we capped the program after a dozen subjects and had the files sealed.”
“Right, you moved onto the AIs and ran your Black Willow simulations with robots, correct?”
“Kind of.”
“What does that mean, kind of?”
“Well, we never perfected the AIs.”
“I think the disaster in San Diego was proof enough of that.”
“No, I mean, we never perfected them at all.”
“Then how did Black Willow and the 3AM Trials even take place?”
“Well, during 3AM sir, we referred to the solution as Remote Intelligence,” Fox explained.
“What does that mean?”
“Sir, it means I cloned those ten soldiers about a thousand times each, and we ran our fatigue-slash-failure tests that way.”
“I don’t think I get you,” Conway said.
“I think you do sir. The same ten operatives conducted the 3AM field tests and all the Black Willow operations, in newly minted bodies, outfitted with quantum streaming recorders. We didn’t usually run doubles because of signal interference issues, but it’s easy to run several copies of a single agent, in series, until the mission is successful. When one of them gets taken out, a second is activated with same objectives and the new memories.”
Fox explained. “On all the ops I ran, I never lost a man.”
“And the by product of this technology is that anyone scanned into the bank with corresponding DNA can be reproduced?”
“It takes six months and about thirty million in blue-goo to grow a new blank from scratch, but essentially, yes. And we never sent originals into the field, but you get the idea.”
“Is that who you are, right now, a copy of a copy?”
“Not at all. The Doctor Fox you see sitting before you is an illusion, projected into your consciousness over your amplifier.”
Conway smiled. “You’re saying the reason Secret Service hasn’t kicked in the door, is because the camera can’t see you, because you only exist in my head?”
“That’s right.”
“So what, the secret service thinks I’m talking to myself?”
“Not at all. This conversation is happening much faster than you can physically move. You aren’t speaking to me with your mouth and lungs, but with your mind.”
Conway raised an eyebrow.
“Go ahead,” Fox suggested, “Put your hands on the desk, just lay them out flat.”
Conway set his hands on the desk, but much to his amazement, they didn’t move. Instead, ghost-like images of his arms slipped out from his physical limbs and set themselves on the desk.
Fox smiled and held out his hand.
Conway took it and stepped out of his physical body.
“This is called astral projection.”
“Makes sense,” Conway said.
“Now watch this.” Fox clapped his hands together.
A brilliant flash
of light erupted from his hands. As he pulled them apart, he lifted the left one high and kept the right low.
Fox and Conway’s astral selves rocketed out of the Oval Office and away from the White House, into the upper atmosphere of the planet.
They floated in orbit, hanging above the world.
In the distance, the Sun illuminated all.
The moon glowed over their right shoulder and satellites hung scattered across the horizon like anti-gravity traffic over Angel City.
“This is amazing,” Conway said, looking around them.
“Mankind is on the precipice of something big,” Fox said. “All we have to do is try and understand that.”
All Conway could do was smile.
“I just figured out how to do this a couple of days ago. I was telling some friends, Stanwood’s kidnapping me is the best vacation I’ve ever had.”
Fox pointed to a series of satellites in the distance. “I’ve only seen those from the inside before.”
Fox leaned toward the satellites, pulling himself and Conway toward them though force of will alone. “You see, once you’re scanned by the Micronix, if you can personally manage it, you can run lots of equipment from the inside. There’s still some pretty significant glitches and roadblocks, but I think Dr. Te has made some real progress recently.”
Fox and Conway reached the satellites and slowed, drifting past the giant communication machines. “These guys serve a few functions, but one of them is the data stream. Packets are received, compressed and broadcast from here, out to the asteroid belt, which we’ve saturated with storage mirrors.”
“Good man,” Conway said.
Fox turned toward the President and looked him in the eye. “He’s going to try and kill me you know.”
“Let him,” Conway answered.
“Are you serious?” Fox asked.
“It doesn’t seem likely to hurt you. And you can’t charge someone with murder just for thinking about it.”
“You have a point there,” Fox agreed.
“So you come out of a coma a few months down the road, what’s the harm?” President Conway suggested.
“Meanwhile Stanwood cleans up, appropriating everything I own?”
“They say possessions are an illusion,” Conway countered.
“You can’t take it with you, I suppose,” Fox replied.
“Besides, it will give you plenty of time to work on the vault.”
“I do want to save as many as we can.” Fox smiled, excited.
“How easy can you make the process?” the President asked.
“We just cracked that one, it’s as easy as taking a photo now.”
“Fantastic! That’s great.” Conway smiled.
“Yeah, but thirty million is still a lot,” Fox said.
“Someday the price of Terillium will go down, but not until we find more of it. I can see that this will be how we do that,” Conway said.
“With your permission sir, that’s what I want to talk to you about. I was thinking we could repurpose the Centaurs.”
Fox gestured to the space-barge they slowly drifted toward. The tanks looked to each be unique, yet all were reiterations of similar concepts; propulsion systems, armor and guns.
“What did you have in mind?” Conway asked.
“Well, we only launched seven of the ten thousand delivered. I propose we launch a significant number of the rest of them out to the hammered bracelet and put them to work mining precious metals.”
“Where will you get the pilots?” Conway asked.
Fox laughed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. They’re all manned. They have pilots wired in, all set into suspended animation. They’re uniquely suited for this other purpose, besides war.”
“We could construct factories right there,” Conway said.
“That’s what I was thinking sir.”
“This is a brilliant idea, Fox.”
“I wish we agreed about the Stanwood situation as well, but I do understand your approach. I’ve already given my men the order not to fire until fired upon,” Fox said.
“Isn’t that common practice?” Conway asked.
“If it were, no one would have had to issue the order, centuries ago.”
“Point taken. I should be getting back.”
“Yes, sir.” Fox brought his hands together, and they were back in the oval office.
“That certainly is an amazing device, I can see why Joe is so afraid of you.”
“He doesn’t even know the half of it.” Fox smiled.
“At any rate, I’m glad you came by,” Conway extended his hand.
Fox took it, and they shook. “Me too.”
“And you don’t have to be afraid of Joe. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“I’d appreciate that, sir.”
Conway stepped back into his body and shook his head.
Dr. Fox waited to be sure he was okay.
President Conway nodded.
Fox smiled and vanished from the office.
Chapter 41 – Terminal Release
Friday Morning, July 24, 2308
Stanwood stood before the open cell door. Andrew had grown a bit of a beard. This particular morning he was seated against one of the back walls.
"It's been almost three weeks, do you realize that? I don’t know how you got to him, but I’m impressed. I told you that when we opened this gate, it wouldn't be with good news. Well, I was wrong.
“There's good news and bad news. The good news, yes, I got a phone call from my uncle, and you are free to go.
“The Attorney General was the one holding everything up. For weeks, he’s refused to sign the warrant on you. He says you're an exemplary citizen and that since this is the only case where you've strayed, without more evidence, he can't warrant stripping your citizenship.”
Stanwood continued, "However, this is the bad news, in order to reaffirm your continued allegiance to the republic, and to prove your loyalty, he did sign everything else. Everything you owned, all your projects and patents, are now property of the federal government.
“Moreover, although you have been allowed to keep your citizenship, you have been reduced to first gate status. You will be required to give your two years of public service again, and this time, since you’re broke, you’ll actually have to do the work.
“How about that?”
Fox made no reply.
"I would recommend not interfering with the agents that have been sent to collect your wife and children. The chairman was insistent that they be included as part of the agreement, he pinpointed specific expenditures that clearly rendered them government property.
“We all objected to it, but in the end, we were overruled.
“There's a transport here, waiting to take you wherever you want to go.” Stanwood smiled.
Fox tilted his head.
“Oh, don’t worry, Scotland Yard took Mr. MacPhail into custody yesterday. Interpol is processing him for extradition right now.”
Fox laughed. “You’re dumb as a bang of hammers, you know that Joe? He won’t have the keys with him. You’re just going to have to release him and then go visit him, like I told you. But since you’re releasing me, I guess you missed your chance. Now you’ll never know what’s behind the curtain.” Fox rose and walked past Stanwood without another word.
"If you hurry, maybe you can beat the acquisitions team to Calistan Way," Stanwood said.
It took all of Fox’s self control to keep from killing the man, but the doctor had bigger plans for his old rival.
Ashley’s Journal, Friday Morning, July 24, 2308
After three weeks at camp, Geoffrey and I packed up and walked down to our transport shuttles, with all the other cattle.
This trip home is taking forever.
I swear we must be the last stop on this guy’s list. We’ve been riding around Angel City for like two hours now.
Geoffrey is next to me, but he’s not talking. He gets quiet when h
e’s tired. He must be exhausted.
Once we got home, Geoff went straight for the kitchen. I’m sure he’s camped out downstairs in front of the game streams.
Mom’s not here.
I came up to my room.
I’m not too hungry.
I don’t want to do anything.
The Micronix is right where I left it.
I’m just going to lie on my bed for a minute.
Dr. Fox arrived home a little before three in the afternoon. As the taxi approached, he laughed. The street and his home looked quiet enough, but with the Micronix, he could see a few things the untrained eye might miss.
He slowed the moment down, giving himself time to examine the situation. Three delivery trucks, two emergency services vehicles, a few big black cruisers. No one was out moving around, but there was hardly a parking spot for two blocks.
Stanwood's men had been in place on the street for hours. They'd been ordered to keep a low profile and not to interrupt anyone coming or going from the structure. The Fox home was surrounded but only on paper.
The forest and canyon were unguarded. The urban-centric agents had not secured the trails in any way. They had not been told what they were doing there or what they were up against.
Von Kalt, King and the rest of the recon team occupied their residence. Fox counted seven active camera lenses trained on his home and three on the incoming taxi.
The Washington Security residence, that he had outfitted and staffed, was empty. The equipment was still present, and running, but the operators had all been removed.
Ahead of the cab, hanging in the afternoon sky, Fox saw the spectral shape of the Secretary of Defense, his oldest childhood friend, James Croswell, with the two men he trusted above all others, Major Kelly Ross and Chief Warrant Officer Eric Reid. They nodded to Dr. Fox as the vehicle cruised past.
Finally, his wife, the only woman who’d ever captured his heart and the mother of his children. Hiding under the pseudonym, Analynn Snow, and serving as an officer in the Marine Corps, Anastasia Zelena and Dr. Andrew Fox had not physically seen or spoken to each other in five years.
The woman Fox would embrace, the one who was waiting for him inside the house with their children, was Anastasia’s clone.
