by Steven James
On Monday morning he’d mentioned the twenty million dollars that was going to go toward the progeria research, but since the drone never got delivered, he never received his payment from the drug cartel.
Now while I’m in the car with Charlene, I think about Tim and the possible breakthroughs in transdifferentiation research.
I make a decision to help move things forward.
Yeah, I have some money at my disposal, but a donation of that size would definitely put a crimp in things for a while.
Well, once in a while, crimps like that can be a good thing.
Charlene turns to me. “I’ve been thinking about the stuff we were talking about earlier this week—strong AI, machines making decisions like humans do, all of that. What makes humans different from machines: Consciousness? Self-awareness? Emotional intelligence? Can machines ever be taught to love? How to program them to be moral—it’s a lot to, well . . . consider.”
“They’re not easy questions.”
“Well,” she says, “to create truly ‘human machines,’ they’d need to be able to worship or rebel against their creators.”
“You mean, against us.”
“Yes.”
“But what kind of a creator would ever be bold enough to give his creation free will and the opportunity to kill him off if they chose to?”
“The real one,” she says softly.
We arrive in Lovelock two hours before dusk.
The town capitalizes on its name and has become known as a place where you snap a lock on a never-ending chain in the center of town as a symbol of locking your love to someone.
Lovelock.
Lock your love.
Good for tourism.
But today I have something better in mind. When we arrive at Altitude Escapades, they have our hot air balloon waiting for us. A big enough basket for the whole crew, just like I ordered.
I arranged a special takeoff ceremony with our pilot. It took some convincing, but the management finally went for the idea when I offered to buy them two new balloons if there was any damage to this one.
But first, before we go anywhere, I need to give Charlene her present.
“I’ve got something for you.” I move my hands in a circle around her neck, and when I pull them away a necklace appears.
“How did you do that?” Mandie gasps.
“Magic,” I tell her.
It’s a leather cross necklace that I picked up for less than ten dollars at one of the souvenir shops on the Strip. I have a feeling Charlene doesn’t care one bit about the cost.
“It reminds me of the necklace I left in the Philippines.”
“I was hoping it would.”
“This necklace is going to be one of the most special things I own.”
“Just one of the most special things?”
“You never know. Someday someone might give me a ring that ends up being even more special.”
“A ring?”
“You never know.”
“The right piece of jewelry can speak volumes.”
“Yes, it can.”
After we’re all in the basket, I give Xav a nod, snap my fingers, and the ropes holding the balloon down burst into flames.
Donnie gives me an approving nod. “Sweet.”
“Xavier’s idea.”
Everyone looks his way, and he gives us a sly half smile. “Fire,” he says. “The only thing better would have been an explosion.”
I’m not so sure about that.
The ropes burn away, but one line is still holding us down. The pilot nods to me and I’m about to untie it when Xavier stops me. “Do it with a flourish, bro. Why not? Come on, for the kids.”
I object that I’m not a flourisher, that he already knows that, but he presses me and so do Fionna and the children.
Everyone is waiting.
“Oh, alright.” I wave my hand above the rope, doing my best imitation of a magician doing a flourish. “I hope that satisfies you all.”
“Got it.” Lonnie winks at Xavier.
“Got what?”
He holds up his phone. “The video. YouTube, here we come.”
Great.
As he taps at his phone, I undo the rope, Charlene takes my hand, the pilot blasts the burner, and we take off on our twilight flight.
What better place to watch the sunset than from the ceiling of the world?
I draw Charlene close and kiss her.
Sometimes you look before you leap.
Sometimes you just gotta take the plunge.
Part X
Aspera
Las Vegas, Nevada
One week later
Hayden Pennet stepped off the bus, carrying the one suitcase she’d brought with her from Ohio.
Eighteen years old. She’d finally done it, finally left home.
She was going to be a model.
A man approached her and introduced himself as Martin Yearling from the Aspera Modeling Agency. “I’m thrilled to see you, Hayden. You’re even more lovely in person than you are in your audition video.”
She found herself blushing. “Thank you.”
“All of us at Aspera are glad you decided to come.”
She’d been wondering something, and now just went ahead and asked it. “Online it said a billionaire owns this place. That true?”
“Yes. Clive Fridell. If things work out at the agency with you, I’ll introduce you.”
“That’d be awesome.”
He gestured toward a limousine. “Let me get your bag.” He moved her suitcase into the trunk and opened the door for her.
“We’ll swing by the hotel first so you can freshen up,” he offered. “Then, whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to a friend of mine from the agency who’s been waiting to meet you ever since he saw your video.”
“Cool. What’s his name?”
“His name is Solomon. And he’ll get you all set up in your new career.”
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Eric Wilson, Trinity Huhn, Ariel Huhn, Jennifer Leep, Jessica English, Heather Knudsten, Pam Johnson, Dr. Jimmy Lin, Dr. Todd Huhn, Shawn Scullin, Rigo Durazo, Mark Spicer, Kevin James, Seth Grabel, Kevin Curtin, Brian Gillis, Joe Castillo, Dr. Johnathan Kiel, Dr. Ray Hunter, and Jim Nyberg.
Steven James is the critically acclaimed author of many books, including the bestselling Patrick Bowers thrillers. He is a contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, has a master’s degree in storytelling, and has taught writing and creative communication on three continents. Currently he lives, writes, drinks coffee, and plays disc golf near the Blue Ridge Mountains of Tennessee.
Books by Steven James
* * *
THE BOWER FILES
Opening Moves
The Pawn
The Rook
The Knight
The Bishop
The Queen
The King
THE JEVIN BANKS EXPERIENCE
Placebo
Singularity
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