by Brandt Legg
“I’ve decided. Yes.”
“Welcome, Grandyn.” Munna hugged him. “You will soon see everything differently.” Then she added in the softest whisper, “You will see so much.”
Fye hugged him as soon as Munna released him.
“When do we go to the City?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” Fye said, “and you’ll finally understand‒‒”
“We are being rude to our host,” Munna said, motioning toward Deuce, Twain, and Nelson. Fye and Grandyn followed her over to them, seated in a partially open shelter, protecting them from the sun and increasing breeze. The chairs were Over-holds, which contoured to their bodies, could automatically convert to chaises, and applied gentle massage.
Grandyn still felt oddly shaken about his decision. Something in Munna’s words made him sure, but uneasy.
“What was all that about?” Deuce asked.
“Deuce, you should know that not all secrets are bad,” Munna replied.
“I was just hoping they were trying to talk you into letting the prophecies go,” Deuce said.
Nelson recalled Munna saying a person could learn from three things -- experience, elders and children -- and that Deuce was about to get hit with all three. He figured Munna was the elder, and that she might consider Fye, Grandyn, and probably even Twain, the children, relative to her age. Twain had certainly been teaching his father about many things.
But what would the experience be? he wondered.
“Munna, according to UC,” Twain began, “the Justar Journal was not left by accident. It was created to guide us.”
There was a twinkle in her eye when she answered. “Cope knew things far beyond this life, even while he was here, and I’m sure he knows a great deal more now. But he never exactly understood how dangerous the Justar Journal could be. I do agree it can guide us, but only when we are ready.”
“But why do you get to decide?” Deuce asked. “Why aren’t we ready?”
“I am not deciding Deuce. You are. I shouldn’t have to explain, but because you all continue to persist, I shall. Ready has more than one definition; receptive, able to comprehend, and it can also mean safe.”
The word “safe” made Deuce suddenly shiver, and he looked out at the ocean toward the horizon, then all around up in the air. He had made sure they were safe in every possible way, but now he worried if it had been enough.
“UC also told me that Munna can control certain external things,” Twain said, then looked at her. “But it’s mostly our perceptions that you are changing.”
“What’s that mean?” Deuce asked, shaking off his concern.
“The INUs are still running the prophecies. The VMs aren’t really blank,” Twain said. “Munna has merely made us believe they’ve stopped. It’s a kind of mass hypnosis that we are choosing to believe.”
Deuce looked at Munna. “Is this true?”
She only smiled.
Deuce ran to the building. The last two VMs, which had been scrambling, were now blank. The others were active, showing scene after scene, and what he saw made him drop to his knees.
Chapter 15 - Book 3
Blaise called a meeting of his knights with the full knowledge that they were each also members of the Trapciers and, whether it was out of respect or curiosity, they all showed up.
“Thank you for coming,” Blaise said as they were all seated around the large, clear table. “I’ve asked you here today in the hope that we may avoid an outcome which none of us could foresee and no one desires.”
“War is inevitable,” Morholt said.
“Of course it is,” Blaise replied. “But the end, to which I refer, is not.”
“What end?” Percival asked. “We have run all the scenarios and simulations. We know every outcome.”
“You know what the programs show you,” Blaise said. “I understand that those results give the CHRUDEs absolute confidence. But Imps, can you tell me that you’ve strayed so far from your human roots that you no longer count on the unpredictable nature of the universe? Have you forgotten that there are surprises waiting behind every cluster of atoms?”
“Yes, nothing is guaranteed,” Galahad said. “But Blaise, you, more than any of us, should know it is about the odds. There is always a chance of something else occurring. Just as lightning might strike me as I walk across the street, but it isn’t going to happen.”
“You are building an army of CHRUDEs,” he said, looking at Galahad. “This is insane. You will not be able to control the outcome. I am telling you it will not go as you plan.”
“You will, as always, be well positioned Blaise. Just enjoy the profits.”
“My knights should know that profits are just an image I use, they are not the breath that propels my life. In fact, you have a slight problem in your scheme. I own DuPont, the company that is the sole manufacturer and supplier of the chemicals necessary to make the skin for CHRUDEs. Without it they will fool no one. They will appear like a typical android.”
“What do you think Blaise? Do you assume we are building them for infiltrators?” Galahad asked. “We have enough completed for that purpose already. Perhaps you imagine they are for fighting, and if that were the case, what would it matter how real their face and hands appeared, as long as they could spot a target and fire a weapon? But our army of CHRUDEs is not for use during the war.”
He paused, flashing a sinister grin, giving Blaise time to figure it out. As soon as he saw Blaise’s expression change, signaling he understood, Galahad continued.
“Yes, we aren’t building them to fight, we are building them for replacements, for humans – after the war.”
“You must stop this,” Blaise said, appalled.
“But someone will need to do the work after the war, and we don’t expect enough humans will survive.”
“Don’t you realize we could become extinct?”
“Of course. It is possible, but humans have had such a long run, too long really, and they have basically done nothing but use, pollute, and destroy,” Galahad said. “We aren’t doing this out of concern for this world. We’re trying to begin the next phase. And, as you know, flesh can become extinct, but energy is eternal, so extinction wouldn’t bother us at all. It might just speed things up.”
Blaise shook his head. He’d created this mess, but now wasn’t sure how it had happened or what to do about it. He considered killing everyone in the room, but he knew there were countless others, and at least with the knights he could have a dialogue.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, he thought. It was a grave and uncharacteristic miscalculation.
Lance Miner and Sarlo flew to an untraceable building in Toronto. The city, along the shores of Lake Ontario, had nearly tripled in size since the Banoff. The skyline was filled with twisting needles, towers shaped like giant ski jumps, sails, intertwined glass lattice, and staggered stacks of silver plates, all of which rose higher than the pre-Banoff CN Tower. It mesmerized Sarlo. Miner had chosen the location for the building to provide the best view of the city reflecting in the lake.
“We’re down to hours now,” Sarlo said.
Miner nodded, brooding. It was the reason he’d moved to the secret location. That, and the fact that he couldn’t be sure the Chief wouldn’t have him arrested at any moment. But all indications and every simulation showed the war would start in the next twenty-four hours.
Miner felt failure as never before. The crushing weight of his powerlessness pressed him heavy and low. He’d always been able to make things happen. His money, clout, and power were almost unequaled in the world. “I was this close,” he said holding his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. “Damn Drast. If not for him we could have stopped this war.”
“As it turns out, we were wrong. At least a little,” Sarlo replied. “Deuce was never the real enemy. He was nothing more than a rival.” She was being generous and they both knew it. Sarlo had tried many times over the years to stop him from obsessing over Deuce, but
they had both missed the mark on reform. “We had a chance with the Council when Drast was Pacyfik Region head, and plenty of other times over the years where we could have pushed reforms and loosened the chains.”
“Maybe, but the rebels might have just come sooner.” Miner paced and looked out across the lake as if searching for something.
“You’re probably right.” She stared out at the lake and the colored lights beginning to reflect on its smooth surface.
“Our only chance now is if it’s a quick war,” he said. A signal went off on a circle of linked INUs on his desk. VMs flashed to life. “Someone’s gotten into the PharmaForce system!” he shouted. “Damn Blaise!”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“They’re in the P-Force section. Who else would be looking for troop movements and our strategies on the eve of war?”
“The AOI, Deuce, PAWN?”
“They would all like the information, but Blaise is the one to profit from it. It’s him, he’s looking for last minute sales. I’m sure he’ll offer me their information,” he said while zooming Blaise.
“What is it Lance?” Blaise answered, not bothering to look up from an array of VMs in front of him. Miner thought he looked haggard, and noticed the drink in his hand.
“You look stressed, my friend. I should think you’d be happy. The war will be so good for your various shady businesses.”
“I’m very busy Lance. If you have nothing important‒‒ ”
“Okay, if you’ve run out of snappy comebacks and biting sarcasm, I’ll get to the point. I want you out of my system.”
Blaise pulled up another VM and scanned it for a few seconds. “It’s not me.”
“Really? Then who?”
“Trapciers.”
“Who?” Lance asked, expecting a figure to be quoted.
Blaise surprised him again by simply answering. “The Imps. I suspect you know some of them. They’ve organized. I think they plan on winning the war.”
Sarlo, still staring out the window and listening, closed her eyes, telling herself to breathe slowly.
“Are they out of their minds?”
“No. But the rest of us might be if we give them this war.”
“I’ve been saying that for decades. Blaise, we have to stop it.”
“I know,” Blaise answered empathetically, locking eyes with Miner for a split second. Blaise’s hologram sat there looking at VMs, but they were shielded by a privacy control that meant that Miner couldn’t see the screens. Miner was so surprised by Blaise’s apparent change in attitude toward the war that he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he should trust it. In fact, he knew he shouldn’t, but somehow did.
Maybe it’s just because I want so badly to believe I have a new ally, he thought.
While he wrestled with the situation, Sarlo took the initiative.
“Blaise, what are you going to do?”
“I’m working on a plan. Do not give them any help. Lock down your system, hard.”
Miner looked at Sarlo. Shutting down their system just as war was about to break out was insane, yet someone was in the system. It could easily be another trick by Blaise. Miner had been burned enough.
Sarlo could see his hesitation. She knew the history and understood. Miner was about to say no, about to tell Blaise to go to hell. She widened her eyes and nodded, mouthing the words. Shut. It. Down.
Right now he trusted Sarlo more than himself. Obviously she had some instinct still operating. Her concerned face softened him for a moment, and for a second he thought about how beautiful she was. With one final, deep breath, hoping for some clarity, which did not come, he entered the code sequence and worldwide, all PharmaForce went dark.
Chapter 16 - Book 3
By the time the others reached Deuce, the VMs displaying the prophecies had gone blank again, all but the last two, which went on scrambling as if they had never stopped. Grandyn looked at Deuce’s face, who was still on his knees, and swallowed hard. Grandyn had seen enough awful things the past three years to recognize terror.
Munna arrived last, but she wasn’t the one Deuce first looked at. It was Fye. “You must remain strong.”
She looked momentarily confused. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll try.”
“I don’t even know who they are,” he said.
“Who?” Grandyn asked.
“The List Keepers.”
“What did you see?” Nelson asked.
Now Deuce turned to Munna. “I saw the most awful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said hoarsely. His eyes locked with Munna’s. “I saw the end of the world.”
“How?” Nelson asked.
“I don’t know, but in the end there were just a few of those torgon vampires left, picking through the waste.”
“The Imps?” Nelson asked.
Deuce nodded, still not entirely back in the present. “But I also saw hope, an underground city, a place of wonder . . . the List Keepers.”
Munna smiled and patted his shoulders. “Get up now Deuce.”
“You meant for me to see that, didn’t you?” he asked her.
She smiled, but didn’t answer his question. She simply said, “War destroys all.”
“Deuce, you should know that the Imps have banded together,” Grandyn said. “They call themselves the Trapciers.”
“As usual, Blaise was the first to hear of the new threat to world stability,” Nelson said. “The Imps, a faction that owes their existence to Blaise and has always been a peaceful group, has decided to take matters into their own hands.”
“Why? The Imps, although misunderstood, could always be counted on to provide services to those willing to pay their price, and almost always the corporate elite. I don’t like them, but I’ve used them. PharmaForce employs hundreds of them.”
“Not anymore,” Nelson said. “They’re fully independent, and on top of their connection to the Field and all networks on Earth, they have a new weapon. A super advanced type of android with the most sophisticated DesTIn brains ever.”
“They’re called CHRUDEs,” Grandyn explained. “They are so human-like it’s impossible to tell them apart. Blaise built one that looked like me and it fooled the AOI, Miner, and even Fye.”
“They’re frightening,” Fye added.
“I was always afraid Blaise would push technology too far. He’s abnormally brilliant, though too often he falls on the insane side of the brilliance,” Deuce said. “But I thought he kept the loyalty of the Imps, especially his advisors. He calls them his knights of the round table. How did he lose control?”
“The Imps have glimpsed enlightenment,” Munna said. “The Trapciers started out as a spiritual group. Those Imps seeking to grasp what they had glimpsed . . . the workings of the universe, the secrets of life, the light of dawn.”
“You know about the Imps?” Grandyn asked.
“Dear boy, how could I not know?”
“Blaise said that the Imps had a tight bond with one another,” Nelson said. “Because even with their differences, they had seen what others could not, and they paid a price others were unwilling to pay.”
“The bloodshed will be devastating,” Munna said. A tear ran down her cheek. “The Imps are an inspiring group. They show what is possible.” She looked at Fye. “They are an example of where our thoughts can go and what is out there, but they have forgotten that this is an instinct, a subtle shift, a breath in the trees. Not a mechanical process. You two go to the City and speak with Nian. Tell him I will release the Justar Journal if they do not act.”
Fye nodded, a promise in her eyes.
Munna smiled, and then excused herself for a nap.
Deuce’s INU lit up and he left urgently for Ryder Island to attend to “matters.”
Twain, Nelson, Grandyn, and Fye enjoyed a meal sitting among the books. Nelson would remain with Munna, the others would leave in the morning. Grandyn and Fye to the List Keepers’ City, and Twain to the redwoods. After they finished the warm food, som
ething they rarely had time for anymore, they took a sunset walk along the shore.
Nelson turned to Twain, who had been quiet for some time. “When you were in the redwoods, almost dead, did you see anything?”
“Yes, Shakespeare’s line from Hamlet. ‘To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come . . .’ And then I saw rivers of stars flowing through a purple land.”
“What do you think it means?” Nelson asked.
“I think it was real,” he said.
“Then where is such a place?” Grandyn asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet Munna does.”
Grandyn nodded, wondering what he was going to find tomorrow. Munna was the most extraordinary person he’d ever met, and now he’d learned she was a List Keeper. The secret group might be powerful enough to save the world from what was coming.
The Justar Journal showed it as the end of the world, but he didn’t need prophecies to tell him it was going to be horrible. He’d been feeling it grow toward a finality his whole life, as if each day the pressure built exponentially from the prior day until everything was going to explode into oblivion.
“Are the prophecies really still on the VMs?” Nelson asked, looking back to the building as the sky streaked orange and magenta.
“I think the last two VMs are a distraction, or some other thing,” Twain said. “Maybe she controls the atoms in the INUs to simply show blank, but the information is still there.”
“She can control atoms?” Nelson asked, trying to seem casual.
“Same as cells,” Twain said. “She’s far beyond where we are.”
“How do you think it’s possible to see the future when it hasn’t happened yet?” Grandyn asked.
“Time’s a funny thing,” Twain said, echoing his great-grandfather’s favorite expression. “The future isn’t really ahead of us, just like the past isn’t really behind us. There isn’t anything linear about time except our human definition of it. Time is all happening now.”
Grandyn looked at Fye as if this was a crazy notion, but she nodded.
