by Drew Cordell
The leader reached into his backpack and pulled out a square camera. He tossed it to Miranda.
“My dear, please turn on the camera and don’t stop filming.”
Miranda turned on the camera and filmed, her heart pounded in her chest.
“I, an authorized agent of the Russian Government consciously commit an act of war on the United States of America. I’ve leaked the records which cryptographically prove that my orders are straight from the Kremlin. With this, I sentence you, President Kenneth Parsons, to die for the glory of Russia.”
“No, don’t do this,” the President cried, moving back against the wall. The armed man raised his weapon and shot the President. Miranda sunk to her knees when he collapsed to the floor, and she felt hot tears pouring down her face. She closed her eyes and awaited her death, but felt a gloved finger brush away her tears.
“Turn off the camera,” the man said.
She reached up and flipped the switch off, too scared to open her eyes or say anything.
The man brushed more tears from her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, my dear. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”
∞
“So what does this mean for us?” Jeremy asked Travis as he looked over the code that went above his head.
“It means we will never actually die. In the past, legacy was all about what you had done with your life. Now, it’s all about what you do during your physical life, and the digital afterlife that follows.”
“It wouldn’t be us, though, would it?”
“I can’t pretend to know the answer to that. One hundred years from now, we’ll still have a say in the direction of this project, though. When our bodies are dust, our digital beings will persist.”
“I don’t understand how it works,” Jeremy muttered, he looked concerned.
“You don’t have to understand, you just have to help me make this a reality. It’s going to take an immense amount of time to finish, time we won’t have unless we are able to complete this foundation and develop the technology we’ll need to sustain ourselves in the system, locked away so we can’t be erased.”
“And you’re sure we’ll only make decisions that we would make in life?”
“Yes, our digital selves will simply be an extension of our physical being—all of the attributes that make up our character. It all boils down to chemicals and electrical symbols in our brains that lead to every decision and thought we have, it’s all a number.” Travis paused to let Jeremy take everything in. “Are you with me?”
“I’m with you,” Jeremy responded, sounding more confident than Travis expected.
“Good. We need codenames in case we need to interact with anyone working on the project in the future, something cryptic, so they won’t think they’re talking to us.”
“I’ll go by Specter,” Jeremy said, grinning.
Travis laughed. “That’s very cryptic. Well, then. Hmm… I think I’ll go by Archangel.”
“That fits. You’re like the protector of the project and what it should be.”
“Exactly,” Travis said as he reached over and patted Jeremy on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re with me, my friend.”
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
As an independent author, I depend on word-of-mouth advertising to market my books and reach new readers. If you know someone that would enjoy Paragon.EXE, please tell them about the book.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Drew Cordell is an Entrepreneurship and Innovation student at the University of Texas at Dallas in his senior year. In addition to writing, he enjoys reading, PC Gaming, board games, hanging out with his awesome girlfriend, and cycling.
You can stay up to date on his work as well as read his personal blog on science fiction, crowdfunding, and more at
https://drewcordell.com
