by Jacob Whaler
For a fleeting instant, her pupils line up perfectly with his.
“I understand you want to talk.” Diego turns to the side, displaying the profile of a large nose.
“I want you to restart your location algorithm.”
Diego moves fingers across a blue screen on his side. “I can’t, not without the full complement of satellites.”
“We’ve reached our target for implant fabrication, so we no longer need them for factory security.” Ryzaard walks past the holo to the window. “Tell Jerek to give them all back.”
“I’ll be more than happy to,” Diego says. “But it will take three hours to take down the old algorithm and configure the new one. Until then, we’ll be blind.”
Ryzaard turns and glares at the disembodied head. “No location capability whatsoever?”
“That’s right. It’s complicated to bring the network of new sats online.”
“Jump on it immediately.” Ryzaard slams his hand down on the jax, and Diego’s face fades away. The old man walks out into the middle of the room and paces from one side to the other, across its length, hands hanging down in fists at his side.
In two days, it will finally be time. Time to put the human race out of its misery. Time to strip them of their burdens and bring them the peace and tranquility they crave. But until Matt is removed from the picture, there will be no peace or tranquility for Ryzaard.
What would Ryzaard do if he were Matt? Where would he hide? What would his next move be? It’s a question he rarely entertains, mostly because of his visceral reaction to the weak who fail to understand power, who are afraid of success.
Matt is one of them. The boy who looked the gift of unlimited dominion in the face and said no thank you.
Despite the foul taste it leaves in his mouth, Ryzaard pushes himself to think of Matt. The boy has already come, on multiple occasions, to Manhattan to face him. Each time, the boy strikes hard and fast, gains an initial advantage, but fails to follow through, a common shortcoming of the young and weak.
Will he make the same mistake again? Not likely. His destruction of the fabrication plants is a hint. Perhaps it shows Matt’s dawning comprehension of what Ryzaard is about to do and his own helplessness.
No, it will not be a full frontal assault in the physical world.
If an attack comes, it will come through the Mesh.
The dawning realization throws Ryzaard into a panic. He stumbles back to his jax and grabs it off the desk. “Kalani, how are you tracking entry into the Mesh?
Kalani’s face jumps up from Ryzaard’s hand. “What?”
“Tell me how you’re tracking entry into the Mesh?”
Kalani clears his throat. “Easy. We have two dedicated Xunil clusters working on it. When an implant is placed on a person, it samples their genetic material. We compare it with our universal database to identify them. Every implant gets assigned to a uniquely identified user. When they enter the Mesh, we know who they are from their implant. It’s easy to track. And we monitor all their movements within the Mesh. Give me a name, and I’ll tell you all the Mesh-sites they’ve visited since getting an implant.”
“What about the rogues that live off-grid and aren’t in our database? Say, someone born and raised in a freedom camp that’s never been identified.”
Kalani balances the butt end of a dagger on his palm. “More likely Yakuza or Swedish mafia than freedom camp scum. We have algorithms that still try to ID them. Nine times out of ten, we can still get a match. It’s hard to live completely Mesh-free.” The dagger teeters and starts to fall. Kalani steadies it with the other hand, and draws it back in pain, licking the blood off his finger.
“So there’s still a few that slip through the net?”
“A few thousand in the whole world. But we track their every move and shut them down if they try anything too cute.” Kalani lets the dagger fall to his desk. “Is there a problem?”
“No, just curious.” Ryzaard slams his palm on the jax, and Kalani disappears.
His meditation platform pulls him to its familiar surface. Dropping into a loose lotus position, he takes a deep breath to clear his head and opens himself to meditation.
He feels it.
An overpowering need to be in the Mesh, to go there and find Matt, to protect his creation from destruction. Eyelids drop down. He takes in another deep breath. The darkness behind his eyes vanishes, replaced by the pristine white of Mesh-space.
His first visit is to Miyazawa’s shrine to partake of Shinto teachings. The priest’s words are nothing more than religious all-in-one, one-in-all mumbo jumbo, but it’s strangely comforting to be among the mass of needy humanity. It is for them that he is building a new world, a place where their suffering will end and their cries for meaning will be answered. Moving among them satisfies a deep hunger.
With no more than a quick thought, he jumps into the congregation gathered there to worship. The avatars of only a few thousand appear on the valley floor, but Ryzaard senses the presence of others. For every one visible to his Mesh-eyes, tens of thousands lurk there, kept invisible by a crowd control algorithm. Unlike the others, he can make himself visible or invisible to anyone he chooses. Ryzaard walks among them, arms outstretched, pulling in their thoughts, feasting on their sorrow and longing.
As the words of Miyazawa flow through his mind like a river of rhythm and sound, an impulse pulls him to the front where he stands, staring up at the priest.
But something is different.
CHAPTER 109
“He’s in the Mesh.” Yarah touches Miyazawa’s limp hand as he lies on the bed. “I can feel it.”
Matt slips out of his chair to the floor and finds a comfortable position. “Then let’s go with him.” He balances the cloaking box on his palm. Slowly, he reaches in and takes out one of the Stones. “This one is yours.” He holds it out in his hand for Yarah.
Breathing in sharply, Jessica lurches forward and points at the Stone. “Shouldn’t it stay in the box? So Ryzaard can’t track it?”
“Don’t worry.” Matt peeks inside the box like he’s looking down a long tunnel and takes out the other Stone. His fingers curl tightly around it. “Yarah and I will need to be on our own. Just in case we have to split up.” Looking over at the priest, Matt relaxes and lets his shoulders drop down. He steals a glance at Jessica. “Hold the fort down. We’ll be back soon.”
“Ready?” Yarah sits next to Matt with her elbows brushing against his.
“You go first,” Matt says. “I’ll see you in Miyazawa’s mind on the other side.”
Yarah takes in a deep breath. Her eyes shut and her body goes still. Matt knows she’s already inside the priest.
It takes Matt longer, but he’s getting the hang of it. As his eyelids close, he reaches out into the darkness for Miyazawa’s mind. Passing through a long tube, Matt comes out the other end and stands in a green valley, lush vegetation stretching to tree-covered mountains on the horizon.
He remembers what Yarah taught him before. Let go of the fear and drop down multiple levels into twilight darkness. Go to the eyes.
Hazy images move just a few feet away, and a muffled voice plays inside Matt’s head. As he concentrates his mind, he sees the eyes floating in the darkness. Going to them, a throng of thousands of faces comes into focus. He is in Miyazawa’s mind, and the voice is the priest’s, clear and piercing.
“And so, my brothers and sisters, the blue jewel opens up a new frontier of unfathomed potential, a world where we slip off the chains of physical reality, leave the atoms and molecules of our bodies behind and soar with joy in realms of imagination. What are we to do with this newfound freedom? Is it enough to spend our time in idle pursuits of pleasure overflowing in the Mesh?”
Miyazawa waits for a reaction from the congregation.
Matt looks out through the priest’s eyes at a sea of adoring humanity.
Matt senses the gathering wave of emotion welling up in Miyazawa’s heart and looks for the mom
ent when the gates open and it flows out in glorious release.
Following the priest’s line of vision, Matt scans the people standing in the front row of worshipers, stylized avatars with impossible perfection and color, creations of human analogs in the real world. As his eyes sweep past the faces, shapes fade in and out, appearing and disappearing from view.
The sound of Yarah bubbles up as if from the bottom of a deep pool. Matt hears the panic in her voice.
Ryzaard’s here. I can feel him. Close. Invisible. What do we do?
“Steady.” Matt quells the panic rising in his own throat. “Can you reach out to him without giving yourself away?”
“I’m not sure. The Mesh is so different. Billions of minds everywhere, open and transparent. Like everyone’s a telepath.”
“If anyone can do it, Yarah, you can. Reach out in his direction, but don’t go all the way. Find someone close to him and slip into their mind. Stay on the fringe. Be calm. I’m right here.”
The priest looks down at his feet and spreads them a bit wider. “I will tell you what we are to do with this gift of Shinto, this wonderful new world that has been opened to us.” He spreads his arms out wide with his robes flowing down, giving him a larger presence. “We are to reach out to each other, our brothers and sisters, let go of our fears and insecurities, our selfish and petty individuality. Become one, united in heart and mind. That is the Way of the Kami.”
Suddenly, a humanoid form materializes at the foot of the steps below Miyazawa, tall enough to look him in the eye. The form is clothed in a tight blue layer of color with the metallic sheen of steel and the flexibility of soft silk. Accentuated muscles move and ripple just below the cloth. A tight network of Stones fashioned into a breastplate floats a centimeter above its chest. It takes a step up, looks down at Miyazawa, and begins to reach a hand out to him.
“Get out, Yarah!” Matt watches as the fingers move closer. “Now!” He flexes his legs, releases his hold on the mind of the priest and looks up like a diver pushing off the bottom of the sea. The darkness falls away into silence.
He opens his eyes into the intense white world of the floating ship. “Slap a derm on him!”
Jessica bounds to the bed holding a wet green square and presses it onto Miyazawa’s exposed wrist. She pulls up his robe, rolls him over and spreads out three more in a vertical row up his spine. The reaction is instantaneous. His body sinks deeper into the sleeping pad.
“Where’s Yarah?” Jessica drops down next to Matt. “Why isn’t she opening her eyes?”
The body of the little girl sits in a lotus position, legs crossed, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. The small chest rises and falls with a regular rhythm.
Matt kneels beside her, staring into her closed eyes, willing them to open. “We saw Ryzaard coming closer, about to touch Miyazawa. I kicked out. She should have been right behind me.” As Matt studies the little round face, he notices the eyes darting back and forth beneath the lids.
“What do we do?” Jessica says. “We can’t just leave her stuck in the Mesh.”
“Create a diversion. Draw Ryzaard’s attention away.” Matt grips his Stone and turns to Jessica. “I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
Only silence answers Jessica’s question.
Matt has already vanished.
CHAPTER 110
Ryzaard stares into Miyazawa’s eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt you, my friend. You’re the only one that can see me, so please continue with your sermon. I’m simply here to observe your work and the inspiring words you have to share.” He reaches the top step and stands behind Miyazawa with both hands now resting on the priest’s shoulders. Noticing the hint of a fleeting presence within the priest, something familiar, Ryzaard tries to grab on to it, but all traces are gone except for a blurry afterimage that hangs in front of his eyes and then fades to nothing.
“And so, my friends, I ask you.” Miyazawa sways on his feet. “What is it that you are pursuing. Pleasure or joy? Are you prepared to live in harmony with your neighbors, to put their welfare above your own?” His words and actions slow, as if submerged in water.
Sensing a change, Ryzaard reaches into the priest’s mind to quickly search his memories. Instead of pristine images and words, there is only a muddle of shadows moving in and out. Indistinct colors float in a liquid world of overpowering heaviness.
“The Kami offer the only path to contentment.”
Another presence hovers nearby, like a butterfly flitting among flowers on a summer afternoon. He studies the avatars standing in the front row just beyond the steps, each of them staring up at Miyazawa with expressions of intense ecstasy. Leaving the priest, he moves like a blur among them in pursuit of the presence. But like a fly, it always floats just out of his grasp.
Then he stops.
From somewhere far above him, a faint scream floats down.
Dr. Ryzaard! Dr. Ryzaard! We are under attack!
Looking up, he immediately jumps out of the Mesh.
CHAPTER 111
Somehow, Matt ends up on a middle floor of the building.
Gripping the Stone in both hands, Matt shoots high-energy green plasma in jagged bolts that rip through the inner structure of zigzagging steel girders and blasts massive holes through the honeycomb of empty offices. He walks a few paces to a large open staircase with two sets of steps spiraling down through the building’s core like a massive strand of DNA. Looking up through the transparent glass steps, Ryzaard’s people are running higher, screaming instructions and warnings. Gazing down, he sees the same reaction. Lights have dimmed and taken on a red glow. An emergency siren bellows out words in monotone computer-speak.
Warning. Security breach detected on level ten. All personnel proceed to evacuate.
Placing his hand on a stainless steel staircase railing, Matt sends a current of energy out through his fingers into the metal. Sparks run in both directions up and down its length. People cry out in pain and jump from the stairs to the nearest floor. As Matt grips the railing, it glows red along its full length and explodes. Burning fragments rain down the open hole. Support beams give way, and the glass stairs disintegrate, starting at the top, floor by floor, into a fine mist of crystal slivers.
Pressing the middle of his sternum, blue armor flows out over Matt’s skin and eyes. A transparent bubble of churning violet energy clothes his body. He steps out into the open hole where the stairs once hung and slowly rises up through the interior of the building.
From below, security forces gather and begin firing directly up at him. A hail of pulse projectiles and laser flares churn the air, absorbed and dissipated by the protective film.
As Matt rises through the floors, people in white lab coats huddle in groups near windows and behind desks. He smiles at them and fires energy pellets at random through stacks of electronic equipment and bluescreens, careful to avoid any human casualties. Sparks and explosions jump around the floors.
A young bare-chested man in a Polynesian grass skirt charges at Matt with a spear poised in one hand and a full length wooden shield balanced in the other. As war cries spout from his grimacing face, Matt raises his Stone, throwing up a shimmering wall of transparent energy. The young man crashes into its surface and drops to the floor.
Matt has only one question.
Where is Ryzaard?
Rising to the top, Matt steps out onto the floor. A new set of ancient relics, statues, carvings and wall hangings adorn it like a museum, replacing a prior set destroyed by Yarah in a previous attack. Over in the corner, he spots Ryzaard’s office, walled off from the surroundings. The door hangs open.
As Matt walks silently through it, Ryzaard sits calmly on a meditation platform staring out at the Hudson River.
“You seem to be caught in an infinite loop. Attack and fall back. Attack and fall back. Repeat.” Ryzaard turns his head from side to side, scanning the late afternoon sun as it casts long shadows across the face of the city.
“The funny thing is, we both know how it ends. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. It’s obvious. And still you fight me.”
Matt drops his free hand down so that both of his hands grip the Stone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lifts his palms to the center of his chest with the Stone resting between them.
“It won’t change anything to play dumb. I’ve had the dreams, saw the images. People walking the streets, laughing, talking, living in joy. All with the blue jewel behind their ears.” Ryzaard rises two inches off the platform and slowly turns to Matt. “That is, after all, the main function of the Stones. To show us the future. To inspire us. To prepare us for it.”
Matt steps back.
Yarah should be safely out of the Mesh by now, hopefully undiscovered by Ryzaard. Miyazawa will be deep under, pulled down by the four derms pouring exotic molecules into his bloodstream. It will take time, but they can revive him.
No need to remain here and listen to Ryzaard’s soft ranting.
“The future you imagine will never happen.” Matt checks the protective layer of green floating over his blue skin. It should hold against any attack. “It’s a contradiction in terms. People stripped of freedom and filled with joy. It goes against the nature of reality.”
A gentle laugh boils up from Ryzaard’s throat. “But that is the function of the Stones. To change and control the nature of reality.” He looks down and shakes his head from side to side.
“No.” Matt stares at the jewel behind the old man’s ear, its color a slightly darker shade of blue. “Some things can’t be changed. Not by you. Not by me. Not even by the Allehonen. They just are.”
“Agreed,” Ryzaard says. “But there is only one such fundamental reality. And you already know what it is. From all eternity to all eternity, it has existed, never changing, always beckoning.”
“Power?” Matt says.
Ryzaard nods. “Precisely. Only power.” Shards of black energy burst from the Stones on his chest and slam into Matt, disintegrating against the bubble hugging his body, making ripples through its surface. “We all crave it. You know this. Even the Allehonen know it.”
