The Justar Journal: An AOI Thriller

by Brandt Legg

  “Where did it start? What is the original title?”

  “Even that is hard to say, but the contents were the collected papers of a man known as Clastier.”

  The name sounded familiar to Deuce, as if he’d heard it in a dream.

  “My father had the originals once, but they were lost with him, or to time.” He paused and stared at the great tree for a long time. “Perhaps that is the same thing.”

  Deuce looked at the old man, and saw deepening age: drooping lips, sunken temples, brittle nails, and his bent body seemed to surrender to the memory of a once strong and confident stance. But what concerned him most was the fatigue in the eyes he’d always known and trusted so completely. He couldn’t imagine losing him.

  “The AOI doesn’t even know you exist. Why do you insist on staying in hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding.” He stood up, suddenly looking younger. “Is that what you think?” He shook his head and shot Deuce a scolding glance. “I’m living how I choose, not within a system designed to make us forget.” The old man sighed, and then walked to Lost Monarch and pressed his brown, leathery hands onto the thick bark. He closed his eyes, meditating. A few minutes later, he turned back to Deuce. “I am not running, I am seeking. I am not hiding, I am finding.”

  “Where do you go? What do you do?”

  “I’m just dancing with time, and occasionally wrestling with it. Like my daddy used to say, ‘Time’s a funny thing.’ But I’m not laughing.” He sat next to Deuce again. “It’s almost over.”

  “What? Are you sick?”

  “My body is tired. I’m ready to go.”

  “What are you talking about? I can get you the best doctors.”

  “You should know better than that. Besides, I want to go. This earthly world is a burden and,” he hesitated, “I was born just after the last revolution. I’d kind of like to miss the next one.”

  “But I need you.”

  “You’ll be fine.” He put his rough hand on Deuce’s shoulder. “You’ve inherited the best of your father, and me.”

  Deuce looked at his uncle. “I hope so.”

  “Do you know the real reason my parents disappeared during the Banoff?”

  “My dad always said it was to protect him.” Deuce’s eyes softened at the mention of his father.

  “Booker had a vision, before the Banoff, of his two sons. So as soon as your father was born, they dropped out of sight. Sure, my dad had many enemies, but the real reason was that they wanted me born in secret.”

  “Why?”

  “His vision was of two sons, one running his business empire and the other pursuing his other interests – the spiritual side.”

  “So that’s why you never went into business. Did he leave you anything?”

  “He made sure I wouldn’t have to worry about money, so I could devote my life to the study of the universe and the soul.”

  “But you gave up the power and fortune. Is that what you wanted?”

  His face broke into a huge smile. “Oh, yes. The only thing I would have wished different is that my brother could have joined me on my quest.”

  “Why couldn’t the two of you have done both?”

  “Booker tried to do both, but business held him back from his spiritual pursuits. He didn’t believe it was possible to do both.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think anything is possible, but I have yet to find a way to reconcile the two.”

  “How much time do you have left Uncle Cope?” He looked lovingly at the face of a man who knew the past, Deuce’s only link to it. “Life is unfair.”

  “Whines the trillionaire.” Cope laughed. “Weeks, maybe months. Whatever it is, I got a better deal than your father. He got the money, but only had forty years. I’ve had seventy-two, and I got everything.”

  Deuce often saw the Lipton money as a burden, but he knew his grandfather saw it as a way to change the world, and that was what he wanted to do. “The world is not as simple as it looks.”

  “Sure it is,” Cope said, rubbing his straggly grey beard. “It’s only about perception.”

  “That’s beyond me.”

  “Perception again.”

  “What about truth?”

  “Depends on perception.”

  “You’ve never really said if you think my dad was killed.”

  “And now that I’m dying‒‒”

  “Don’t take your knowledge with you.”

  “I never told you what I thought because I didn’t want you chasing ghosts, seeking revenge. It doesn’t matter what happened. My brother is dead.”

  “But someone can be held accountable.”

  “Karma will take care of that. You just worry about living. Life is too short for retribution, grudges, and hate. Forgiveness is a beautiful power.”

  “Not telling me what you know about his death is tantamount to an answer. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 20

  Wednesday, January 31

  Runit and his team had worked late into the night, and would have slept in the library but for the risk that KEL would see their failure to go home as an anomaly and possibly alert Portland-based AOI agents. It might also go unnoticed, but with the library closing and all the high level interest, they couldn’t risk it.

  Chelle passed Runit on the stairs. “I love your library,” she said. “I can see why Nelson likes to write here. Excitement is hidden on every shelf.”

  “Isaac Asimov once wrote, ‘It isn't just a library, it is a space ship that will take you to the farthest reaches of the Universe, a time machine that will take you to the far past and the far future, a teacher that knows more than any human being, a friend that will amuse you and console you -- and most of all, a gateway, to a better, happier, and more useful life.’ But you know what?”

  “Tell me,” Chelle said, as if waiting for a great secret.

  “During all my years in this grand building, I’ve come to the realization that Asimov actually understated it. In truth, a library contains the entire universe, and each book is a portal to a different world.”

  “That’s exactly why they want it destroyed,” Chelle said. “There’s too much at stake if we learn too much.”

  Progress was slow, even though they arrived early that morning in order to try to get deeper into their task. They had eight days remaining until the closing. Runit thought he could get more done if he didn’t work anywhere near Chelle, his fantastic distraction. He decided that his son should be free from Vida’s charms as well, so he planned to station them in different parts of the building when they arrived later. Nelson’s attention seemed diverted only by food and the fictional characters running around in his head. The unfinished manuscript he’d interrupted for the closing crisis was to be another in his popular corporate espionage series.

  “The characters are harassing me. They’re impatient. They want me to help them out of their messes,” he claimed more than once.

  “They’re not real,” Runit told him.

  “I know that. I’m not crazy. But they think they’re real. So do me a favor and tell them, and while you’re at, ask them to let me sleep!” He poured hot coffee down his throat and Runit noticed what could only be doughnut crumbs on his coat, but didn’t say anything. They would likely all be in prison before the weight-police came to get Nelson.

  “It’s going to take ten years to finish this,” Runit said.

  “We’ve got to get more of the staff involved.”

  “Too risky. They aren’t idiots.”

  “We’re all idiots,” Nelson murmured. “Come outside so I can smoke. You know, it’s ironic that in like a week they’re going to torch this place and you still won’t let me smoke inside the damn building.”

  “It’s a health issue, not your topic, I know.”

  Nelson yawned, and Runit did the same a second later. They were hashing out a way to get the entire staff to help and weighing the dangers when Grandyn appeared, jog
ging up the marble steps.”

  “Why aren’t you in school?”

  School had also changed dramatically since the Banoff. At first, students were isolated from one another as fear of another outbreak kept parents cautious. The Internet allowed distance-learning to flourish. As the Internet morphed into the Field and everything became connected, that became even easier, but students were floundering. With the success of the Aylantik Health-Circle and great pharmaceuticals preventing another plague, students eventually returned to classrooms, albeit very different ones. Instructors from around the world lectured and taught across the Field to thousands of students at once. Classes ranged in size depending on age level and location, and each highly paid instructor had staff available to assist. The local gathering of students, still called schools, were mostly monitored by cyborgs and bots, with one human director acting as Dean or Principal.

  “It’s raining,” Grandyn said, as if answering a silly question.

  “And they’re cancelling school now because of rain?” Runit asked, still lost.

  “Dad, remember? They’ve been waiting for a rainy day to do the test.”

  “Oh, right. TreeRunners.”

  Grandyn shook his head, annoyed. “I just stopped by to tell you I won’t be able to get back here until dark, but Vida will be here right after school.”

  “Can you skip it?” Nelson asked. “Clock’s ticking and we need all hands on deck.”

  “Nelson, aren’t authors supposed to avoid clichés?” Grandyn asked.

  “Only when writing.”

  Grandyn nodded. “If we need more help, I can get as many TreeRunners as you need. Well, at least a dozen.” The group, like a combination of an intellectual fraternity and an Eagle Scouts program, had been around for at least fifty years, though no one knew for sure. The first clan was said to have begun in the Rocky Mountains, but soon spread across the globe.

  Runit was about to turn down Grandyn’s offer until he remembered the oath. Grandyn had been a TreeRunner since age five, and he’d known the other kids in the wilderness program all that time. Each year they renewed a blood oath of loyalty to each other. Their bonds were made even tighter with rugged camping and hiking trips, where survival skills and an appreciation for all things nature were forged into their being. They stayed in until age twenty-five, but the friendships lasted a lifetime. Former TreeRunners were always sought after for the best jobs from top corporations because of their loyalty, leadership, and discipline. They were especially favored by AOI because of their extensive training. Each year in the program the difficulty level of the tests grew more arduous, but no one ever quit because the group supported each other completely. They’d even carry someone many kilometers if necessary.

  Today, Grandyn would do a ten-kilometer run through dense forest in heavy rain. The TreeRunners actually got their name from the ancient art of racing at full speed through trees, practiced by tribes of the American Northwest. The grueling run, done barefoot, tested speed, endurance, and mental skill. Spectators were not permitted. Only fellow TreeRuners would see the feat. Next year he’d have to do it blindfolded.

  “Would they do it?” Runit asked.

  “If I asked,” Grandyn answered.

  “And they’d keep it absolutely secret?”

  Grandyn gave him a that’s-another-stupid-question look. “Of course.”

  “No questions?” Nelson asked, knowing the answer.

  “There should be no doubt about the oath,” Grandyn said. “Their silence is guaranteed.”

  Runit silently thanked his wife. It had been her idea to push their young son into the elite wilderness fraternity. It had done much to shape Grandyn into a responsible, confident, and resourceful young man, and now a corps of energetic, trustworthy youths was about to help save the books.

  “Please, ask them,” Runit said.

  “You got it Dad. Order in a stack of pizzas. We’ll be here around dinner time.”

  As promised, Vida showed up after school. Runit sent her to work with Chelle. The two tall women discovered they were both black belts in karate and endurance hikers, each having recently completed the Pacific Crest Trail. They immediately became friends. Vida admired Chelle’s “tough spirit,” and desperately wanted a role model. Her parents had gone through an acidic divorce, and seemingly cared only about how Vida could be used against the other. Her mother, not especially bright, frequently lost jobs, and had twice been sent away to the fat farms. Her father, a scoundrel, had been juggling young girlfriends even before the marriage ended, while staying buried in debt.

  “Are you going to college?” Chelle asked as they pulled books in the same section. She enjoyed Vida’s accent. It reminded her of a friend she’d had in the Chiantik region.

  “I don’t know. Money’s tight.” Although the Aylantik government paid full tuition at any college that accepted you, housing wasn’t included. “Even if I can get into Portland State, I’d have to find a place to live.”

  “Your folks?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, Grandyn doesn’t want to do college, so I might follow him.”

  “Following a man is not always a good idea,” Chelle said. “But, I must admit, sometimes it is . . . if there is love.”

  “There is.” She smiled, maybe blushed, but her cocoa complexion made it hard to tell.

  “Are you being careful?”

  “Oh yeah. We don’t want kids.”

  “Ever?”

  “Never,” Vida said firmly. “I’m even considering selling my bearing-rights.”

  “Don’t,” Chelle said, suddenly angry.

  “Why not? It’s just free money. I told you we don’t want kids.”

  “You’re too young to decide that much of the future.”

  Vida didn’t respond. A few minutes later, the silence had grown uncomfortable, but Grandyn came in with a boisterous group of TreeRunners. Upon seeing the thirteen highly trained, energetic young men and women, Chelle realized that the young could, in fact, decide the future. She hurried to find her brother.

  Chapter 21

  Deuce sat quietly in the Flo-wing on the short flight to his San Francisco office, his thoughts heavy with the reality of soon losing his uncle. The man, more than just the last link to his father and grandfather, had been Deuce’s spiritual compass throughout his life. Now, about to embark on the most challenging time the world had known since the Banoff, Deuce wasn’t sure if he possessed the fortitude not only to survive the coming changes, but to actually lead the way.

  The question was moot, he thought, recalling the plaque that had hung in his father’s office. “Circumstances define the man. No one wakes up and decides to be great. It’s the events he’s thrown into that determine if he is truly great. Survive or not is to be great or not.” The quote had been attributed to the Old Man of the Lake. Deuce never knew who that was, but knew Booker had given it to his father. Soon, the changes were going to begin, and Deuce would have to deal with them, ready or not. But so much depended on Portland.

  His INU lit up the interior of his spacious Flo-wing. These aircraft were much quieter and faster than the ones his grandfather had known, and this one had been custom-built for him by a division of his giant StarFly Corporation. The very same company he had long been counting on to change the world. The question now though, was would there be enough time?

  He watched the dazzling VM displays that turned the cabin into a mini-KEL monitoring station. All the activity taking place around the library came into view. AOI even had limited interior surveillance. For nearly a hundred years, companies controlled by the Liptons had been supplying government agencies with the world’s most advanced spy, intelligence, and surveillance technologies. The advantages, aside from the profits and access to power, were almost limitless, especially the secret “back doors” that were always built into the systems.

  Chicago85, the main company dealing with government contracts, could never be traced to hi
m. It had been set up long ago by his grandfather, and still appeared to be controlled by the reclusive Mumford family. Chicago85 was his third largest asset after Eysen and StarFly, but all three of his massive conglomerates would be required to save the world from itself for the second time in a century.

  Watching the busy library made Deuce even more concerned. He immediately dispatched a courier to Nelson as he watched him smoking a bac on the loading doc. How could so much hinge on a ragtag bunch of bungling book people and teenagers, he wondered. It took him less than four minutes to identify all fourteen teenagers, and it delighted him that thirteen of them were TreeRunners. Very few people knew he’d been a TreeRunner as well, and once a member of that fraternity, always a member. They might pull this off yet, he mused.

  The final teen was Vida Mondragon, a pretty girl from a broken home. After a few frames, it appeared obvious that she and Grandyn were an item. Vida might be the weak link here, he thought. Deuce’s hand whisked through the air and full data scans came up on Vida, her parents, extended family, friends, including a past boyfriend, and every teacher she’d ever had. Another hand gesture and an employee received the assignment: dig into everything Vida.

  Chelle Andreas was another matter. Aside from being Nelson Wright’s sister, she was Bull Andreas’ widow. He already knew plenty about her. There weren’t many men Deuce respected more than the late banker.

  Banking had evolved into something more specialized than in the pre-Banoff days. Because of the Field and the end of paper money, all banking was digital. It became more generic and less profitable until the rise of the power bankers. A handful of shrewd and well-connected individuals brought the “dealing” back into the industry and spawned a new elite class of brokers. These firms had important clients, and one of the most impressive rosters belonged to Bull Andreas.