The Power Broker

by Nick Svolos

  “Nanobots, similar to those used in the Force extraction process, will enter every human on Earth. Once they find a host, they will seek out any superhuman DNA and simply snip it out and leave the body. It’s simplicity itself. As I said, we will test it in Los Angeles first. We wouldn’t want a repetition of the Mechanista incident, after all, would we? Hah! Can you imagine? Almost four million insane Mechanistas running around on the loose? No, that’s an unacceptable risk. That’s why the robots will be there. They’re more than capable of sterilizing the city should that occur, so have no fear. But, I’m sure nothing will go wrong, and then I can release the nanobots throughout the rest of the world. After that, poof, no more superhumans. The human genetic legacy will be free to achieve its evolutionary potential unsullied by supernatural forces.”

  “Doctor, that’s ... monstrous. Someone will stop you.”

  That triggered another bout of B-movie Mad Scientist laughter. “Impossible. You see, Mr. Conway, the nanobots are already in place. I inserted them into the water supply weeks ago. Every man, woman and child in Los Angeles is already a host. All that remains is for me to give the command to initiate the procedure.”

  He leaned forward and placed a fatherly hand on my knee. I resisted the urge to squirm. His eyes shone with that inner light that true fanatics get when they’re on a roll. “Do you recognize the enormity of this project now, Mr. Conway? The opportunity that I’m bestowing upon you? You will chronicle the greatest scientific achievement in human history. The God of the Bible murdered the entire population of the world with a flood to end the first Age of Heroes. I will end this one without harming a single soul.”

  XII

  Insanity is scary. Terrifying. Our interactions with other people rely heavily on the other party acting in a sane, rational manner. When we run into madness, most of us are ill-equipped to deal with it. It's only natural. Yet, at some point in our lives, we all have to deal with it. You might adjust your path to avoid the wild-eyed guy on the corner ranting about the Bilderbergs. If you’re less fortunate, you might have to deal with mental illness in a friend or family member. If you’re really unfortunate, you might find yourself in physical danger at the hands of a particularly deranged individual. Some of us don’t survive it.

  I have dealt with madness before. I interviewed Crimson King, a man who could produce knives from his own flesh and psychically hurl them with deadly force. He suffered from a dissociative identity disorder so severe that his own normal personality was all but extinguished, completely suppressed by a murderous psychopath. The only sign that the man he once had been was still in there was the look of desperation that periodically flashed across his features. He didn’t harm me, but he racked up quite a body count before Golden Crusader killed him.

  I thought that was as bad as it could get. I was wrong.

  I sat in a comfortable chair, the sweet taste of aged Cognac numbing my tongue, with a man who fervently believed it was perfectly reasonable to unleash a nanovirus upon the world’s population because he thought our gene pool had been polluted by fallen angels with a taste for human women. He was willing to exterminate a city of almost four million people to see if it worked.

  I looked into his eyes and saw only unhinged certainty there. He was deranged, but he was committed. He had everything he needed to implement his scheme. Looking into those eyes, I knew there was no way I could ever talk him out of it.

  I looked away and took another sip of the brandy to take stock of my situation. He had to be stopped. I had no idea how that might be accomplished. My dad once told me that a good card player sometimes just has to assume that the cards he needs to win are out there and play accordingly. It seemed like good advice. I had to operate under the assumption that a means to thwart this scheme would present itself if I could stay alive long enough to find it. Then it would just be a matter of execution. Hopefully I could get a message out to somebody qualified to get the job done. If not, I’d have to find a way to do it myself.

  “So, what do you say, Mr. Conway,” the madman asked. “Will you join us? Will you be the herald of the dawn of a new age of man?”

  Thanks, Dad. You were right. The cards I need are out there, and here’s the first one. I smiled and forced myself to say the words. “Of course. I’m a reporter, and I can’t think of a more important story.”

  “Vorzüglich!” He rose and stuck out his hand. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am at your decision. To have the famous Reuben Conway document my achievement. Such fortune!”

  “The fortune is mine, Doctor,” I replied as we shook hands.

  “Nonsense, young man. Now, in three days’ time, my automatons will be in place and the test will begin. That should give you ample time to document my labors, yes?” I nodded. “But tonight, you must rest, for we have much to do. I have had suitable quarters prepared for you and had your personal effects transferred to them. It is my hope that you will find them more than adequate.”

  “I’m sure I will.” We walked to the elevator, but before we got there I asked, “Oh, there’s one more thing. The people who accompanied me here. Will they be alright? What are your plans for them?”

  “I assure you they are being well cared for. They cannot be released, of course. I do not believe they share your openness to reason. Men of vision, such as us, are rare, sadly. Once my project is complete, they will be released unharmed.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear that. They’re good people.”

  “Of course! What we do here is for the good of all. Have no more concerns about such matters. I assure you, they will be free to fully enjoy the new world I shall create. Rest well, Mr. Conway. Tomorrow our work together shall begin.”

  ***

  The elevator dropped me off at an apartment much like Dr. Schadenfreude’s, albeit somewhat smaller. Instead of the dining area, my room had a desk on which I found my messenger bag, complete with my cellphone and laptop. Naturally, I couldn’t get a signal to call out, but I didn’t really expect one. When we’d found this place, I was already down to one bar of signal strength, and I couldn’t imagine picking up a carrier this deep underground, even if the ceilings weren’t full of the magnetic inducto-whatevers that powered the robots. I didn’t really know how all that worked, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t good for cell phone signals.

  My top priority was to see if the Angelphone was still there. It was, hidden away inside a power supply sleeve. I knew this thing operated on some tech that wasn’t available to the general population. For example, I’d never had to charge it. It seemed to have some sort of internal power source that never ran down. If it could get a signal through, I’d be patched directly to whoever was managing the duty desk at the Tower. However, it seemed odd to believe that Dr. Schadenfreude wouldn’t have had my gear searched. He might have left it there to see if I was playing straight with him. For that matter, he probably had a way to detect outgoing transmissions. I hid it back in the bag. I’d have to save this card for when it would have the most effect.

  I went through the rest of my bag’s contents, half-looking for listening devices, but really taking stock of what was in there. I’d collected a lot of crap over the years, and I wanted an inventory of what I had available to me. You never know, there might be something I could use. I had a handful of pens and notebooks, a stack of business cards, and a credit card-sized plastic magnifying glass. I wasn’t sure what I could do with all that, but maybe I’d run into MacGyver or something. He could probably build a helicopter out of this stuff.

  It occured to me that maybe I watched too many old TV shows.

  I stretched and paced around the rest of the room. The dresser held a couple of sets of blue jumpsuits in my size. This was good, since the clothes I wore were just on the verge of funky after my adventures in the desert. Speaking of the desert, the room offered a lovely moonlit view of it. Wondering how they had all these windows in the mountain without anyone noticing, I walked over for a closer look. The perspective didn’
t change, and I realized these were just large computer monitors displaying the outside view. Huh, clever. Any room could have a resort-quality view with these things. I wondered if there was a way to get the Lakers game on it and started looking around for a remote.

  It was a crazy world to begin with, and by the very nature of how I made my living, my world was crazier than most people’s. Sometimes I got overwhelmed by it all, and this was one of those times. Doing normal, ordinary, everyday things helped me think. Rummaging through the couch cushions for a missing remote freed my thoughts to consider how I could monkey-wrench Dr. Schadenfreude’s plans. Outside of finding a bright red button labeled “Self Destruct - Please don’t press,” I figured my best option was to somehow spring Dawson and the gang from their jail cells. The cops and soldiers would know how to handle themselves if it came to a fight, and Ranger Maggie was probably the best person imaginable to have around when it came to getting out of the desert alive. If I could find a way to get them loose, we just might have a shot. Admittedly, not much of a shot, not the sort that you’d want to wager the world on, but it might be all I could get.

  The elevator door chimed and Jezebel entered. “Hello, Reu—what in the world are you doing?” she asked with amusement as I looked up from an overturned couch cushion.

  “Looking for the big screen’s remote.” I returned the cushion, my face flushed with embarrassment.

  She raised an eyebrow. “In the couch?”

  “That’s where they nest. It is known, khaleesi.”

  She chuckled. “You’re so cute. I don’t suppose you considered asking the computer? What did you want to watch?”

  “I thought I’d see if I could catch the end of the Lakers game.”

  “Computer, change to the basketball game. Mute audio.” Sure enough, the big screen switched to the game. Sadly, the Lakers were down five points to Orlando in the fourth quarter. Oh well, you can’t have everything.

  We sat down on the couch, and Jezebel scooted closer to me, just inside the polite boundaries of personal space. “I hear we have cause for celebration.”

  It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going. I needed to figure out a way to defuse the situation and quick. “Uh, yeah, I guess so. I accepted your dad’s offer, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’m glad. I think you’re just the guy to explain all this and keep the world from freaking out.”

  “I hope so. Should be a good payday,” I said, watching Kobe sink a three-pointer and playing the part of the hack journalist. “Say, when this all goes down, you’ll lose your powers, won’t you?”

  “Uh huh, but I’m cool with that. They weren’t mine to begin with. They came from some kid in Des Moines. Such a waste. He was using them on his parents to get out of school and play video games all day. He’s better off without them. While it’s been fun, I don’t think I’ll miss them.”

  She turned to me, displaying a magnificent view through her low-cut skinsuit, draped a slender arm over the back of the couch, and began idly playing with the hair over my ear. The action sent a pleasant warm shiver down my neck. “You know, I seem to remember there’s a little something we put on hold until we found out whether we’d be on the same side of this thing.”

  I turned a bit towards her, took her hand away from my hair and gently held it. “Oh, right. About that. Look, I’m in a relationship.”

  She pulled my hand to her lips and gently nipped one of my knuckles with a perfect set of incisors. “That’s alright,” she said with the most deliciously wicked smile I’d ever seen. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  She knew exactly how to push a man’s buttons, and right now she was playing mine like a concert pianist. My heart pounded in my chest, but I fought through it. “I’d know,” I said, my voice rough with unwelcome desire. “I think that would be worse.”

  “I could force you, you know. Then you wouldn’t be at fault.” I felt a push at the back of my brain, urging me forward to cover those luscious lips with my own, to let my tongue explore its way past her grin to taste what lie behind them. Her breath smelled of cherries. She almost had me.

  Helen. Think of Helen. Think of the look on her face if you let this happen and she found out about it. Think of how this would hurt her. Think of her smile, the way she wiggles her eyebrows when she tells a joke. Think of never seeing that again.

  That did the trick. “You could, but you won’t.” I finally managed to force the words from my throat. “You want me to want you. I can see it in your eyes. Well, you don’t need powers for that. I already want you more than I want my next breath. But it’s not gonna happen. I’m spoken for. I belong to someone else, and I’ll never willingly betray that. And you, while you might be a lot of things, I don’t think one of them is a rapist.”

  The pressure in my mind faded along with her grin. “Wow, that girl’s really got her hooks in you, doesn’t she?”

  It was my turn to grin. “You have no idea.”

  She sighed. “You’re a good man, Reuben. You should know, I enjoy breaking good men. But, you’re right, I won’t force you. Don’t need to. I know how to play the long game.” With a playful grin, she stood and added, “You’ll come around. Your kind always does.”

  She walked off to the elevator with that slow, long-legged, high-heeled walk women have where they somehow manage to cross their legs at the ankle with each step. It does fascinating things with their weight distribution that makes their backsides waggle with each luxurious stride, driving anyone with a Y chromosome absolutely insane. I had no idea how they did it. I could testify in court that it worked, though.

  She flashed that wicked grin again as she stepped into the elevator. “Pleasant dreams, Reuben.”

  ***

  I started my first day in the employ of Doctor Schadenfreude down in one of the hangar bays. The giant robots—there were fewer of them than there were yesterday—observed my morning run in silence, like a bizarre army of terracotta warriors guarding the tomb of an absurdly large Chinese Emperor. I didn’t have my headphones, so there was no music to keep my mind busy. The only sounds were my own breathing and echoing footsteps. I didn’t want to think about the absurd double-agent game I was playing. I didn’t know the extent of Schadenfreude’s resources, but he did mention he had his own superhumans. It would be just my luck that one of them could read minds. I closed down my thoughts and focused on the rhythm of my run.

  The rest of the morning, I followed Doctor Schadenfreude around, learning the timeline of the plan and trying to understand his explanations of how his technology worked. He paused every now and then to point out certain aspects that he wanted to make sure I made clear to the public. Some of these were meant to allay the concerns of what would likely be a nervous population, but most were to highlight the genius of his achievements. It appeared that the only thing that could compete with his intellect was his ego. He clearly expected to be lauded for his vision by an adoring populace once this whole thing was complete. He even showed me the shelf where he planned to place his first Nobel Prize. It was a very nice shelf.

  Periodically, he’d call a break so he could go off and make an adjustment to some piece of equipment or to issue detailed instructions to one of his robots. This gave me a chance to familiarize myself with the layout of the facility. Beneath the hangar level was a manufacturing facility where the robots were assembled. Under that was another that made the parts they used. It had everything from smelters to fabrication equipment, all run by robots. Raw materials were shipped in from a variety of sources. It looked like he tried to keep his procurements small in order to avoid arousing suspicions, and since he’d been doing this for a decade, he had plenty of materials stored up to build another hundred of the hulking behemoths should he need them.

  When I asked where the smoke from the smelters went, Schadenfreude explained that all the pollutants were captured by airborne nanobots and recycled.

  “I’m not sure I fully understand how you’re doing this
, but it seems like this technology could revolutionize how they’re trying to eliminate pollution and greenhouse gasses,” I noted. “Something like that could be huge.”

  The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I hadn’t considered that. I shall endeavor, once this project is complete, to perfect the process and make it available to industry. Please put that in your article.” He chuckled. “Well done, my boy.”

  I wasn’t sure how well I liked the “my boy” comment, but I could tell my observation had sort of stroked the madman’s ego. I figured I’d probably ingratiated myself to him. Something like that might play out to my advantage, so I let it slide. Still, it felt dirty.

  After lunch, Schadenfreude said he had some work to oversee and he’d send a robot to collect me when he was ready to continue. I was more or less left to wander around on my own. Continuing my investigation of the base’s layout, I found the level where the nanobots were created. There was a robot overseeing the process, and this one was quite talkative. The robot directed me to a viewing monitor where I could watch the magic happen, and to me that’s what it looked like. In a series of electromagnetic chambers, atoms were assembled into molecules and these into the finished product. One by one, I could see tiny glowing lights combine to form what looked like a little spider surrounding a larger glowing sphere that the overseerbot explained was the power source. It was simply incredible. The robot told me that the facility could produce over ten thousand nanobots a day.

  The nanobots were transferred via an underground conveyor to another facility buried beneath the desert floor about five miles from the mountain. Here, they were loaded into thousands of missiles, powered by another of the Doctor’s electromagnetic triumphs and capable of reaching anyplace on the globe. These missiles would distribute them via a combination of cloud seeding and direct insertion into the world’s water supplies. I made a note to see if I could learn its exact location. When the time to end all of this came around, it seemed like this would be a prime target, and finding it would probably be tricky without the geographic coordinates.