Dark Nights

by Christopher A. Gray

  Many of his searches about the Moon were locked out. It was clear to Doug that the tablet had been set up specifically to prevent him from searching for certain things. He did find plenty of blogs and editorials on the subject, including one on a major media outlet web site titled “What About the People of the Twin?”

  The writer warned that these extreme measures and the speed with which Mekhos appropriated the Twin’s moon were evidence that catastrophe that would be stopped on FLO would now befall the Twin. Some commenters agreed, while others insisted his theories were nonsense. The biggest problem was that the writer didn’t have any science to back him up. No quotes from knowledgeable astrophysicists or earth science experts. Either Mekhos or the Limited had a lid on that sort of access.

  Turning to the big daily newspaper that had been delivered to his room, Doug saw plenty of familiar headlines. Most of them dealt with policy and minor natural disasters. A hurricane was battering Jamaica. There were none of the typical middle east tensions or issues with North Korea or any other regime. As far as he could tell the regions were peaceful, enjoying the same prosperity as the rest of the world.

  One story got his attention. “Doctors the world over are baffled by sudden increase in illnesses.” It was a short article detailing unusual increases in heart attacks, strokes, arthritis, respiratory illnesses and other afflictions across the globe. There was speculation that the increases were being caused entirely by stresses from the earthquakes, personal losses, sudden changes of season and a world being without a moon for several months, but there was no solid research or studies offered as backup for the assertions.

  Aside from the Moon-related news, Mekhos was mentioned several times in the headlines. Most were details on GDP growth and new policy initiatives on wildlife preservation and sustainable energy development. There was another headline that caught Doug’s eye, even though it was more or less buried in the back of the international news section: “Mekhos Loyalists Burn American, UN Flags,” with a photo caption of demonstrators and police clashing.

  “Huh,” Doug said aloud. “Plenty of trouble in paradise.”

  Prior to lift-off from Earth, the crew had been given a brief on what was known about the attitude of common citizens toward Mekhos. For the most part, FLO’s population viewed Mekhos and its policies with acceptance and quiet pride, especially since its accomplishments had moved the world towards peace and a more equitable standard of living. Some people grumbled that the Raim and other public surveillance measures reduced their privacy but since there did not seem to be restrictions on free speech, dissent was rare. Still others pointed out that any loss of self-determination was tantamount to creeping slavery. There was no consensus.

  The physical problem of having to wear a Raim no matter what you were doing was solved, or rather solved itself, by ingenuity and the force of ubiquity. If everyone was wearing one, then it followed that it was never inappropriate to wear one no matter what you were doing. And if everyone was wearing one, it followed just as quickly that designers, craftspeople, fashion houses and companies with corporate logos to display easily figured out how to decorate, disguise and otherwise turn any Raim into an unavoidable accessory or advertising platform. Mekhos made it all easier to figure out by releasing technical guides about how to decorate a Raim and what could be embedded in the surface. Clever machine.

  Then there were the Mekhos evolutionist groups, whose members advocated that Mekhos be given complete control, even at the local level. The most extreme groups believed Mekhos to be a god, or to have been delivered by God to aid humankind. At the other end of the spectrum were the anti-Mekhos groups, preaching the dangers of letting a machine dictate human destiny. But given the apparent general satisfaction of the global public, the extremist groups seemed destined to stay on the fringe.

  The tablet chimed. Doug tossed the paper aside and picked up the device. Curiously, there was an email notification addressed to him. Apparently his hosts had set up an email account in his name. He tapped the notification and was surprised to see the identity of the sender.

  Greetings Dr. Lockwood!

  I am very pleased we will be meeting on Thursday. I have been following events very closely. We have much to discuss.

  Norman Stravinsky

  For the first time since leaving Earth, Doug felt a shot of jubilation. From what he had read and heard from others, the inventor of Mekhos was not only brilliant, but also had the reputation of being a sympathetic man who gave much of his fortune to charity. The need for charity on FLO wasn’t as pressing as it was back home, but there were still some areas of society that needed attention. Stravinsky was considered a leader in that respect.

  Doug was having trouble staying awake so he put the tablet on the end table, turned off his nightstand light and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  – 71 –

  Agent Bishop, hiding in plain sight, reported for work at the Mekhos Command wing of the National Security Agency building in Seattle. The MC section stood apart from the main building, with its own parking lot and security entrance.

  This NSA had evolved to become an organization far different from that on Earth. It encompassed all security matters pertaining to Mekhos. Since the bulk of the Mekhos system was located on the outskirts of Seattle, over time the NSA had moved many of its personnel there. On FLO the NSA was not only involved in assessing and analyzing foreign threat potentials, but domestic as well.

  Rector had given Bishop a tablet computer. Among other things it contained the personnel files of all coworkers. The ones Bishop was most likely to meet were flagged, along with the most important one for his deceased twin. Most of the early history of the two Bishops up to college and a stint in the military was identical, except Bishop of FLO had never been to war. He had also sustained a head injury during a training exercise almost a decade earlier. After recovery it was acknowledged there was a slight personality change, veering into the antisocial. It wasn’t quite significant enough to undermine his career. Although he had occasional disputes with superiors and coworkers, Rector thought that it wasn’t necessarily viewed as a detriment by some of their superiors. Bishop was now one of three Supervisors of Security at the MC. His team was investigating Virtue, the anti-Mekhos group.

  The defenses protecting Mekhos went far beyond anything that could be designed or even clearly understood by any human programmer working for Virtue. The Virtue hackers knew it. But in addition to probing the Mekhos defenses for vulnerabilities, Virtue also actively campaigned to keep the public aware of the price of allowing Mekhos so much control and surveillance in their lives.

  The hacker attacks were tolerated up to a point, mainly because they helped harden security. Every few months a few of the more persistent individuals were arrested, tried and jailed for a few weeks. Those convicted also lost their Raim removal key privileges, destined to wear the bracelet forever. That alone acted as a deterrent to at least some potential dissenters. The government made no attempt to reconcile its public assertions that the Raim was a benefit with the fact that it also used the Raim as a punishment.

  Virtue had a more radical wing, one that was not above using violence and terrorism. With so much of society on FLO operating under increased surveillance it was difficult to plan, organize and execute attacks, much less carry them out without being caught. Virtue dealt with it by developing and adopting new methods out of necessity, much like any other radical group faced with relentless countermeasures. As powerful as Mekhos was, the determined minds leading Virtue were adept at coming up with effective ways to circumvent safeguards. Mekhos could not always see or sense everything that was about to happen, at least not yet.

  Bishop’s position as a security supervisor gave him access to information on the locations of all the Mekhos system hubs. Simply by calling up a general status report he was able to find the main power source, the various backups, their capacities and what power stations they were sourced from. There were also some memory backups sc
attered around the globe. There were many redundant safeguards built in too, which made any attempt at totally destroying the quantum supercomputer essentially impossible. That is, if one’s plan was to physically destroy Mekhos.

  Bishop arrived at the office early to acquaint himself with the building. His shared office was very neat and orderly and there were a few pieces of memorabilia on his bookshelf that he recognized, including a photo of his parents and a hockey puck he had caught as a boy when a visiting team shot it into the stands. He didn’t recognize some of the other items – a photograph of a car with two men sitting on the hood, and what looked like a woman’s necklace slung over a small piece of driftwood.

  His two colleagues entered the office. From file photos Bishop recognized the lead one as Philips. He was carrying a cardboard tray with three coffees. He set one down on Bishop’s desk and handed the other to Gerard, the third member of the supervisory team. Bishop glanced up and gave a curt nod to the men.

  “Forgot to ask you yesterday. Get home all right the other night?” Philips said as he sat down and woke his computer. Bishop paused for a moment.

  “Yeah. Thanks for your concern,” he replied dryly, looking back at the screen. It was a neutral if slightly sarcastic answer, the best Bishop could do given that he had no idea what Philips was talking about.

  “You said you were going on a date,” said Gerard.

  “It ended early. No chemistry.” Bishop’s heart rate had increased at the unexpected question, but he managed to sound calm enough. “I went home, made myself some popcorn and caught up on your weekly scuba diving journal. Reading about your recommended nitrogen and oxygen mix for deeper dives was the highlight of my evening.” That generated a laugh from the two men.

  There weren’t many distractions throughout the next hour. Aside from some discussion about another new radical group and the occasional complaint about the competence of the people outside their small office, the men were largely silent. They went about their duties, mostly consisting of cross-checking dissenter information and going over internal personnel reports. A junior aide knocked on the open door.

  “Sir?” he said, looking at Bishop.

  “What is it,” Bishop replied. The aide stepped tentatively into the office.

  “Some of the admin guys are asking me if you will look into that scheduling matter. With the VIP tour of the building there is a shift shortage because some of the evening team have been sent to cover the—”

  Bishop cut him off.

  “Give me another copy of the visitors list. And start showing some initiative! If you don’t have the ability to make recommendations you’ll never be promoted. Send me your proposal within the hour.”

  Philips looked up briefly. Gerard didn’t react.

  “Yes sir,” the aide said after a slight pause, and quickly left the office.

  Four minutes later Bishop received an email from the aide. He printed off the visitor’s schedule list and proposal. He scanned the names. He recognized two of them. Dr. Douglas Lockwood and Commander Brent Jamieson.

  – 72 –

  Doug and Jamieson were being driven from a debriefing at the Pentagon back to Andrews. They were flying to Seattle for Doug’s meeting with Norman Stravinsky the following morning and then the meeting with Mekhos immediately afterward. Nathan Smith was staying behind to start his goodwill tour at the White House.

  Unlike the large SUVs used by officials on Earth, they were in a car-like crossover vehicle, electric powered, with comfortable bucket seats that seemed to have the same body-adaptive technology as the seats in the Copernicus.

  While on the expressway they were fascinated to see that none of the cars and trucks were the same as those on Earth. Most of the same automakers existed but the vehicles were very different in the details, looking more like the advanced concept cars they’d seen at auto shows. Some drivers appeared to be sleeping, reclined in their seats. Others appeared to be eating breakfast, while some had their side windows and even front windshields completely opaque.

  “I hope that’s some sort of driverless technology at work, otherwise we’re about to be part of a huge chain-reaction collision,” Doug said, still looking through the window.

  “Yes,” Stacey laughed. “All cars sold today have driverless technology built in. You can still take the controls on city streets if you want, but the safeguards do a perfect job of preventing accidents even when a self-driver is inattentive. People use their own cars as automated taxies, sending their children to school. The car delivers the kids, returns home on its own afterward, then goes back to pick up the children after school.”

  “Amazing,” Jamieson said. “It must make the kid’s trips to and from school much safer.”

  “Exactly, Commander Jamieson,” Stacey nodded. “And it’s much safer for kids who walk to school, crossing intersections and not paying attention. The system maintains speeds and distances, and detects pedestrians. Traffic lights and stop signs are unnecessary, since during busy times within the city the traffic management system takes over completely, synchronizing with the central hub which manages traffic for maximum efficiency. It re-routes traffic around problems. Most drop-off and pickup schedules are staggered slightly to ease the load at peak times. Same system in and around every city of any size in the world. It took quite a few years to recycle all the legacy vehicles people wanted to hang on to, but they’re almost all gone now, restricted to off-peak hours.”

  They arrived at Andrews and were taken to the civilian check-in counter at the airfield’s terminal to be directly processed by Security Forces Specialists. They were ID’d a second time by a small group of personnel dressed in ABUs who tagged their luggage and took it away for loading. In addition to Jamieson and Stacey, there were a few other men and women on the flight. Doug realized Miekela was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he hadn’t seen her since their landing. His last glimpse of her had been just before the ambulance doors closed as she accompanied Foley to the base infirmary. While they were being processed at the desk he turned to Stacey.

  “Where is Dr. Persaud? Is her group late?”

  “Dr. Persaud requested a tour of the medical facilities is also helping in the treatment of Dr. Foley. She will be taking a different flight this evening. You’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “A tour?” Doug replied, his voice rising slightly. “Dr. Persaud and I know each other quite well and we’re on the same mission team here. I understand her concern for and attention to Dr. Foley, but a tour request seems unusual.”

  In response, Stacey Lau, gestured toward the gate.

  “Dr. Lockwood,” she said, shaking her head, “I just work here and that’s the information I was given. It seems obvious to me that Dr. Persaud is fascinated by the medical technology here and simply requested a tour of the facility in which she was stuck between examinations of Dr. Foley. Seems innocuous enough, don’t you think?”

  Doug had a wrenching feeling in his gut that there was something going on that was definitely out of his control.

  “Dr. Foley’s illness,” Doug said, in a lower tone, “was a concern for me before we left home, it’s a scientific handicap now, and an additional problem too because it takes Dr. Persaud away from my team. I’m two people down. My mission – call it my planet’s greatest mission – has barely begun and it’s already hampered. If I didn’t know better, and I actually don’t, I’d say there was something working directly against me.”

  Lau just shook her head in response and shrugged her shoulders. Jamieson had walked over to them.

  “We planned for a lot of different contingencies, Ms. Lau,” he said, nodding to Doug as he spoke, “but losing access to an able-bodied team member was not one of them.”

  “Commander Jamieson…” she started to reply, but then just looked at Jamieson and Doug and shrugged. “I have nothing more to tell you.”

  “Things seem to going well for you here on your world, and I’m delighted to see it,” Doug pressed on, stress evident i
n his voice. “Things are not going well on my world though. The meeting with Mekhos is something that Dr. Persaud and I have prepared for, almost exclusively, for weeks. We both feel that the meeting is likely the most important thing either of us will ever do. I find it hard to believe that Dr. Persaud wouldn’t let your medical staff look after Stan Foley. In fact, I believe the meeting with Mekhos is so important to Dr. Persaud that she'd let Stan Foley die rather than miss this flight. Do you understand?” He took a deep breath to get himself back under control.

  “I ask you again,” he said, sharply, “why is Dr. Persaud delayed?”

  “I’m just the messenger here, Dr. Lockwood.” She turned and headed to the waiting shuttle bus.

  The last time anyone stripped my resources from me without warning, they lost the bet, Doug thought, and if the authorities on FLO think that the unfortunate Twin people are now hobbled, I’m going to prove them just as wrong as the last bunch back on Earth. It had been many years since Doug had been embattled by competitive boards of directors, competing granting agencies, political influences and competing scientists. None of the people he’d met so far on FLO seemed to understand his determination, Brent Jamieson’s determination, or Nathan Smith’s determination. He suddenly thought about Bishop's mission for a moment, then cleared his head as the other passengers brushed past him. It wouldn’t help anything to start thinking about Bishop.