by David Jones
“Did they?”
“Almost,” Oliver said. She rounded a curve, the ambulance’s tires chirping in her haste.
“The Caliph laid claim to the city, but his forces were stretched too thin to take it fully,” Anya said. “The allies aided the Swiss in pushing his forces out, but it’s remained hotly contested. It’s not a safe city. Factions loyal to the Caliph still control portions of it. That’s why Crown hides there.”
“Okay, this is something I don’t get.” Jake threw his hands up in frustration. “I’ll admit I never paid much attention to the news, but I swear in my time ISIS, or ISIL—whatever you call them—was nearly dead. Everyone claimed the U.S. had bombed all their leaders to oblivion and cut off their money. Now you’re telling me they managed to launch a world war and take over a lot of Europe within just thirteen years? How?”
“The War of Confusion.” Oliver glanced at him, her eyes serious. “That’s what people call the ISIL-European war. And the name fits. Islamic terrorists didn’t start the third world war on their own. It rose out of worldwide disagreement.”
“About what?” Jake asked.
“About everything.” Anya slid off the gurney to draw closer so she could hear over the ambulance’s diesel engine. “To be honest, it was all boiling over in your time too. People kept getting triggered over hot button topics on the internet—left versus right, race divides, how companies should pay their employees.”
“Flat Earth,” Oliver put in.
Anya rolled her eyes but nodded. “Everything you can think of, it was an issue to fight about on forums and in streaming debates. Surely, you saw a lot of that?”
Jake shrugged. “I guess so. But you’re saying people went to war over social media arguments? That’s insane.”
“Yeah, it was insane,” Oliver said. “But when people are passionate about something, it’s easy to make them view the other side as evil. And back then that’s all you got—one side or the other insisting everyone who opposed their point of view was irrational, and a constant news cycle fanning the flames on both sides for ratings. Civil unrest broke out over everything from disputed election results to how the police were treating people of color. And if you looked, no matter your opinion on any subject, you could find one news source or another espousing just what you wanted to hear. You think candidate X won the senate seat because of voter fraud? Well, of course you do, because paid journalists exposed it. Except, another set of journalists wrote articles and made streaming videos saying exactly the opposite. Don’t know what to believe? Believe what you like, and scream at anyone who opposes you.”
“Armed militia groups started seizing towns all over the nation.” Anya’s eyes appeared unfocused, her mind far away. “And it wasn’t just white supremacists Nazis or crazy prepper gun nuts. Regular, freedom loving, sane folks joined in because they feared the U.S. government had turned away from its roots. Several states attempted to secede from the union, including California, Texas, North and South Carolina. That sparked a second civil war, which was complicated by the fall of several Central and South American countries at nearly the same time. With a war going on at home and massive refugee groups migrating north, the U.S. military became overwhelmed.”
“Hell,” Oliver said, her voice rife with disgust. “Half the military sided with General Hever when she launched her coup.”
“There was a coup?” Jake’s jaw dropped open. He had known things were polarized in the America he remembered, but he never would have imagined a U.S. general rising up against the government.
“Yep.” Oliver signaled a lane change to pass a slow moving car. “I’m not saying she didn’t have her reasons. God knows, the government was a sack of crap by that time, but no military coup has ever instituted anything good after the shooting stops. And besides, she failed. Congress might not have been able to find their asses with a Geiger counter, but they knew how to shill with the best of them. So they turned to the one thing they knew and understood to work in every situation. Multi-billion dollar corporations.”
“So that’s how companies got involved,” Jake said, his mind spinning with ramifications.
“It started out with contractors helping defeat the secessionists,” Anya said. “That was nothing new of course, except now they were doing it on American soil.”
“And what do you get when you let civilians fight wars?” Oliver sounded at once bitter and jovial. “Mercenaries.”
“True.” Anya keyed something on her tablet and held it up for Jake to see.
A news headline dated almost a decade ago proclaimed: Landmark Wartime Legislation Passes House.
“It worked?” Jake asked.
“Too well.” Anya made a sour face.
“That’s up for debate.” Oliver gave her a sideways look before returning her eyes to the road. “Merc teams working with the military put down the uprising in short order. The outlaw states couldn’t cope when large companies banded together to crimp their resources. It’s one thing to cry defiance in the face of big government when you’ve got plenty of food and ammunition. But when the trucks stop supplying cat litter and you can’t find microwave popcorn at the supermarket, you start to rethink your life goals.”
Jake looked between both women. “Wait, so did a civil war in America somehow help ISIL?”
“Only in so much as the War of Confusion had spread across the planet,” Anya said. “For a while, it seemed like everyone across the globe had broken into sides on issues they were willing to fight over. For Europe and the Middle East it was mostly about immigration.”
“Exactly,” Oliver said. “While America was busy punching itself in the face, factions in what had been ISIL started a new recruitment campaign. They drew in tens of thousands of militants who had seen the West steadily shutting its doors to them while they suffered under tin-pot regimes more inclined to line their own pockets than take care of their citizens. Money and power poured in and revolution poured out.”
“It was almost a joke how fast they overturned one Arab nation after another once they got rolling.” Anya put her tablet down, shaking her head. “We had just brokered peace in the U.S. after four years of war, so no one was interested in trying to stop them. People had been fighting in the Middle East forever, that’s what everyone said. Nothing ever changed. ISIL was just another faction—one that would come and go without any interference from us. And that sentiment held right up until they took Egypt.”
“Yeah,” Oliver added, “things got real then. Israel came in on the Arab side, that’s how crazy it was. They tried to band together with Egypt and Jordan, but ISIL already had too many sympathizers in their governments, and if there’s one thing all Arabs can agree on, it’s that the Jews are not their brothers or even their allies. It turned out easier for ISIL to subvert Egyptians, Jordanians, and especially the Lebanese to side against Israel than to fight them. They wisely avoided Turkey and Iran, and instead set their sights on Europe.”
“That’s when the United States finally got involved,” Anya said.
“And sent in their mercenary companies?” Jake asked.
“The military too, of course.” Oliver shrugged her shoulders as if addressing something of little worth. “Corporate bodies were already considered citizens of the United States even back during the time you remember. It wasn’t much of a leap to essentially enlist them in the various military branches with all the rank they required. Pretty soon, you had corporate majors and generals, not just people, but entire company bodies holding those ranks. Soon enough, they were running the show. That, combined with corporate reach, made it possible for us to do the same thing here we did back in the States. Soldiers can learn how to do without luxuries, but regular citizens have a hard time with austerity. So, while we were fighting the ISIL incursion throughout Spain and France, we simultaneously squeezed their resources back in their homelands.”
“You imposed sanctions?”
Oliver shook her head. “This was more than just san
ctions. Companies completely shut down their supply lines for everything from food to clothing to electrical power and gasoline. Any entity unwilling to tow the line was blacklisted. Those that did were subsidized to keep them afloat.”
“You starved innocent people?” Jake’s eyebrows shot up. This did not sound like the United States he remembered.
“Yes, they certainly did,” Anya said, her tone defiant.
“For a given number of innocents, sure,” Oliver said. “But ISIL had boosted its numbers by recruiting from general populations. Our companies put the squeeze on the people those recruits left behind in order to take the fight out of them. And it worked. ISIL’s numbers dwindled fast.”
“But they managed to hold onto parts of Europe?”
Oliver nodded. “Business is business. Cutting resources meant cutting profits. A corporation can only do that so long. Even with thousands of them banding together for one purpose, there was only so much money to pass around, most of it supplied by the U.S. government. ISIL is stubborn—most of its core members are zealots who don’t care a thing about buying diapers or making sure their kids have the latest toy. So, yeah, there are some holdouts we didn’t kill, but they’re weak, more like gangs than armies nowadays. ISIL as a military entity is broken.”
“What about back home though?” Jake asked. “I get putting down a rebellion by cutting off supplies, but that isn’t going to change people’s minds about why they fought in the first place. Is there still unrest? Are Americans still fighting one another?”
“Not really,” Oliver said.
“Of course,” Anya said in the same instant.
They eyed one another, and Oliver gestured as if to give Anya permission to speak first.
“After the civil war in the States, and then the great war here, governments all over the world decided to start monitoring how their citizens received news.”
That made Jake sit up in his seat. It sounded like something China or Korea might impose. “The U.S. too?”
Anya nodded. “And who do you think our government turned to for help with controlling media?”
“The corporations.” Jake felt sick.
“Exactly. The corporations who had just won two wars for them. The same corporations who now controlled the U.S. military.”
“You make it sound like some kind of conspiracy,” Oliver said.
“It is.”
“Setting up independent bodies to fact check news is not a conspiracy. It’s a means of removing bias. And you can’t argue that things haven’t been more stable back home since the monitoring began. We get all the same news we ever got without the sensationalism. It’s like the 1950s.”
“Yeah, some Orwellian dream of the 1950s.” Anya looked disgusted, her lips drawn back in a near snarl. “Everything’s fine, the world is fine, no one’s trying to control you or monitor your movements, and all you should worry about is which celebrity is sleeping with which. We don’t get facts anymore! We get the same milquetoast reports passed on every stream. Independence is out, and regulation is in. Meanwhile, cybrids are running around everywhere executing anyone who runs counter to some CEO’s mission statement of the month.”
Jake could recognize an oncoming train wreck when heard one. He needed something to divert the ladies before Oliver ended up killing Anya after all.
“Seanan Reese has us heading to Geneva. Does that mean she’s part of ISIL?”
Anya shook her head, her anger lessening as she considered the question. “No. She’s not on anyone’s side except her own. But that doesn’t mean she’s above colluding with them when it suits her purposes.”
Jake shook his head. “But I thought the ISIL-European war was over.”
“Officially?” Oliver said. “Yes.”
“According to the allies,” Anya agreed. “But that’s only because the American people are sick of war. They’ve consistently voted out anyone who wants to keep fighting in Europe. But the Caliph still rules pockets of southern France, and Italy.”
“We’ll avoid the ISIL factions,” Oliver said.
“Assuming we can, then what?” Jake asked.
“What do you mean?” Anya asked without looking up from her computer.
“What’s our plan? We’re headed for a Dissolution stronghold along with every other cybrid, only most of them are going to end up on Dissolution’s side, right? They’ve already got Phineas. What happens when we get there and find ourselves facing six of our own kind? I hate to admit it, but I’m not exactly good at using this new body of mine. Up against an experienced cybrid, I’m dead.”
“Thirteen,” Oliver said.
“What?” Jake asked.
“You said we might be facing six of our own kind. Your figures are off. There are fifteen total cybrids working for Cymobius. Assuming that call went out worldwide—” She broke off, glanced at Anya, who had stopped fiddling with her computer.
Anya, her expression shocked, gave a little nod.
“So, that means there could be as many as thirteen cybrids ranged against us,” Oliver said.
Jake stared at her, momentarily too stunned to speak. Then he said, “But it won’t be that many, right? I mean they weren’t all in Europe today.”
“Do you recall the wrecked vehicle you were in when Anya and her people supposedly found you?”
Jake nodded.
“It’s called a Bugatti Raptor. It was one of just a handful ever made. The things cost sixty million dollars apiece, but they’re worth it. They have what’s called small bottle fusion plants—”
“Fusion engines,” Jake said, awed. He had read about such ideas. Several large aerospace firms had been close to creating a viable fusion plant before his memory loss. Apparently, at least one of them had succeeded.
“Exactly,” Oliver said. “They have near limitless power, they can fly at supersonic speeds at suborbital altitudes, and every cybrid has one.”
“So all thirteen of our counterparts could beat us to Geneva?”
“We’ve still got about five hours to go. If one of them had been in Hawaii when the call went out they could have made the trip twice before we got there.” She gritted her teeth as if a thought had struck her. “If it weren’t for Winston and his partner, I would have taken you to Geneva in my own Raptor—it’s back in Paris. They were my cover leaving the hotel, and after that I simply didn’t think about it.”
“It was the KILL MACHINE protocol,” Anya said.
Oliver said nothing, her face grim, her green eyes searching the empty road ahead.
“Are we driving into a trap?” Jake asked after a long moment of silence.
“Maybe,” Anya said. “But what’s the alternative? Cymobius controlling your kind is bad enough, but Dissolution? Believe me when I say they don’t care about anyone or anything that stands in the way of their goals. They’ll do anything to break the corporate stranglehold on the world. It took me a long time to realize that, but it’s true. We were supposed to be standing up for the little people, those not backed by huge corporations, without bankrolls to fund their desires, without any real political power. But now I wonder if that’s what Dissolution was ever really about or if we were really just serving Crown’s interests—Seanan Reese’s desires.”
“Still,” Jake said,“thirteen cybrids. There’s only two of us, and I’ll admit I’m no real fighter.”
“You fought Phineas,” Anya said, though Jake could hear the hesitance in her voice.
“With several large men wielding Tasers on my side, sure. But one-on-one I’m no match for the others. Oliver took me out in seconds, and she wasn’t really trying.”
Oliver glanced his way. Jake expected her to grin at her triumph, but her face remained stoic. “I could never have beaten Harris like that. You’ve got the body, you’ve got the cybrid, what you lack is the experience—the mind that goes with them.”
Jake shook his head. “I’m not going to become that man again. I don’t care what you say.”
Oli
ver started to reply, but Anya spoke first, her words coming slow and soft.
“You wouldn’t be that man,” she said.
Jake stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“If I returned your memories, it wouldn’t obliterate the ones you’ve formed in the last three days. You’d retain those and the old ones. You’d remember being the person you are now.”
“I don’t think three days would stand up very well against thirteen years,” Jake said. “I’m not doing it.”
“Then you’re putting us at a disadvantage,” Oliver said.
“I don’t even know what you’re planning to do,” Jake said, deliberately changing the subject. “Are we trying to keep Dissolution from controlling the other cybrids, or are we just going to barrel in and try to kill Seanan Reese?”
“Both,” Anya said, and Oliver nodded.
“I’m not comfortable with killing anyone, not even Reese,” Jake said.
“What do you think she plans to do once she has a squad of cybrids under her control?” Oliver asked. “Do you think Reese will hesitate to kill?”
Jake opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it. He gazed out the window, watching the green countryside whirl past, his thoughts adrift.
“Maybe, if we can manage to shut their Spearcasts off, we can convince some of the other cybrids to join us,” Anya said. “Once they know how Cymobius has manipulated them, they’ll want to help.”
“You don’t know that,” Oliver said.
“No,” Anya said, “but it’s all we’ve got.”
THEY DITCHED THE AMBULANCE at a regional airport outside a small town near the Swiss border. Oliver rented a sedan from a discount service in the main terminal using her personal account.
“Can’t that be tracked?” Jake asked.
Oliver, who had just tapped her mobile phone against the credit machine to pay the bill, shrugged. “Who cares? Cymobius will just think I’m chasing you, and Seanan Reese will figure I’m answering her siren song.”
