by Steve Alten
Li Peng smiles, the presence of the military parade pumping his adrenaline. He glances at his watch. Twenty-seven hours to go before the terrorist’s deadline, and yet he is anything but nervous. There are no students present, no demonstrators, just loyal Communists. The entire square itself is occupied by the military parade, the largest he has witnessed since the fiftieth anniversary of Communist China more than a decade ago. It is a tremendous show of strength, a reminder to the world that China is still a formidable superpower to be reckoned with.
Today, we will show the world that China cannot be threatened . . .
Li Peng exhales, watching his breath dissipate in the chilly November air while he waits impatiently for the television and satellite crews to complete their work. Mounted high overhead on his far right, blotting out the entire northwest section of the square, is a sixty-foot LED video screen that will be used to display his image to everyone in attendance, as well as those watching worldwide via satellite.
He turns with amusement as his face appears on the rectangular screen, greeted by thunderous applause. Tens of thousands of loyal onlookers have gathered in support, lining the galleries beyond Tiananmen Square. Dozens of crimson-and-yellow Chinese flags and banners dominate the perimeter.
China’s national anthem blasts over the loudspeakers. The president wipes a tear from his eye for the benefit of the cameras, then steps to the podium.
“For thousands of years, the Chinese people have fought to retain our beliefs, the uniqueness of our culture, the magnificence of our heritage, and our very way of life against invading armies. Through discipline and selfdetermination, we vanquished our enemies. Through the guidance and teachings of our leaders, we continued to strive to provide the best way of life for ourselves.
“Like all great nations, we have gone through difficult times. Some may accuse us of falling behind on the issue of human rights. The truth is, China has always acknowledged the importance of protecting human rights, and its leaders have taken steps to ensure these rights for all our citizens.
“Two decades have passed since the revolt by a handful of students in this historic square. While some may prefer to dwell in the past, our government has worked hard to improve Chinese society. We signed the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights and accepted the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. We have expanded dialogue on human rights with foreign countries, and will continue to do so. And of course, we most recently hosted the Olympic Games, sharing our culture and dreams of the future with the world.
“But we will not succumb to extortion. We will not allow a madman with an American-designed machine of mass destruction to determine policies for a billion and a half people. The issue of Tibet, a land that had been part of China for more than seven hundred years, is a far-reaching, complex issue that could never be determined in a matter of days, even if we had the cooperation of the Dalai Lama. While we look forward to continue open discussions regarding the future of this colony, we cannot and will not live in fear of reprisal—”
Aboard the Goliath
Sujan Trevedi is watching the Chinese president’s speech on the viewing screen mounted forward of the control room. The Tibetan refugee shakes his head. “Human rights? Abdul, can you believe what you are hearing?”
The African shrugs. “It is the same all over the world. The oppressors have swallowed their own lies. Notice Li Peng never mentions the fact that his own navy built the Goliath.”
Gunnar circles a series of terminals labeled, COMMUNICATIONS, focusing his attention on two monitors, one flashing a myriad of scrolling algorithms, the second depicting a global view of the world, taken from space. From the latter he sees a jagged electric blue line rise from a point in the Indian Ocean to connect to what appears to be a small satellite orbiting over Asia. Bouncing off the satellite, the blue line flashes on and off like lightning as it struggles to gain a fix on some unknown target within China.
“Rocky, come here. What do you make of this?”
She stares at the monitors. “Sorceress is engaging the Goliath’s satellite communication uplink.”
“Yes, but why? And what are these flashing lights?”
“I can’t be sure. It looks like the computer’s attempting to find a communications pathway into Beijing.”
ATTENTION.
Simon opens his eyes. He focuses his gaze upon the overhead mirror—and chokes back a gag reflex, fighting to maintain his composure.
His skull is gone, the moist folds and fissures of his brain completely exposed. Several hundred microwires have been sutured to the surface of his brain. The free ends of these neural strands have been gathered, then bundled together into a single, inch-thick ponytail.
Covah inhales several quick breaths. “David?”
“Right beside you, Simon. Keep looking at your mirror.” David gently lifts the free end of the trailing three-foot-long bundle of microwire so that Covah can see it in the overhead mirror. Attached to the end of the ponytail is a strange-looking male adaptor, about the size of a Cuban cigar.
“Is that a miniature MEMS unit?”
“Just like the one that links Sorceress to its minisubs. All neural connections have been sutured into your brain, then fed into the MEMS unit. The MEMS unit will plug directly into the master terminal on your left. Rigged the adapter myself. Incredible, isn’t it?”
Adrenaline pumps through Covah’s veins. His mustache twitches into a nervous smile.
WE ARE READY TO BEGIN PHASE ONE OF THE INTERFACE.
“Phase one?”
“Just a test—to ensure all neural connections have been properly positioned.”
“How soon before we can begin the actual interface so we can start working on a cancer treatment?”
“Soon. First you have to rest.”
“There’s no time to rest, David, I’m dying.”
BEGIN PHASE ONE OF THE INTERFACE.
A computer terminal is situated to Covah’s left. David lifts the male end of the MEMS unit attached to Covah’s brain and plugs it into the computer terminal’s female receptacle with a click.
Simon Covah stares up at the overhead surgical lights, feeling nothing. And then he is overcome by a sizzling wave of current, which seeps into his being, firing every nerve ending in his body. Violent electrical impulses surge across the synaptic gaps bridging his central nervous system, followed by a sudden, frightening blindness. “My eyes! David, something’s wrong, I can’t see—”
“Yes, Sorceress warned me that might happen. Actually, I expect you’ll lose all of your senses, before long. You’ll be a complete vegetable.”
“Bastard … you’re not interested in curing my cancer—”
“Not true. The knowledge Sorceress gains from this interface will be used as a peace offering, once my version of Utopia-One has been completed.”
“Your version?” Covah’s body trembles. “David … why this treachery?”
“Why? Because you’re weak, Simon. You’re too emotional to go the distance, to do what it takes to really complete Utopia-One, and there’s too much at stake. In a sense, you’re a microcosm of everything that’s wrong with America’s military. Removing a few dictators and reducing the threat of nuclear proliferation is not going to make the world a safer place. Russia and Mexico are filled with corruption and violence, as are most of NATO’s European allies. The Arabs harbor terrorists, and we kowtow to them because they control our oil. Drugs flow out of Colombia and Nigeria as commerce, and we let it happen. Their governments are controlled by criminals, run by terrorist organizations. We allow them to extort us under the premise of negotiating for peace, when in reality, they couldn’t give a damn about human rights or democracy. Africa is a continent riddled with AIDS and violence. Do you really think establishing a bunch of bogus democracies is going to change a damn thing?”
“Sorceress, release me!” Covah cries out.
“Simon-says is over. Sorceress is under my command. On
e voice, one set of rules, that’s what’s really needed to create a new world order.”
“Gunnar was right. You’re driven by ego.”
“Call it whatever you want. All I know is that I gave up a lot to be here, and I didn’t do it to go halfway. Goliath gives us the ability to make real changes, to dictate to the world the American way, to kill humanity’s enemies and hunt down their survivors, international laws be damned.”
“What … are you going to do with me?”
David strokes Covah’s good cheek. “I really do love you, Simon, which is why I’m granting you your last request. You wanted to jack in to a computer, you got it.”
Covah attempts to respond, but finds he cannot speak. David’s words suddenly become muted, distant, as if he is underwater.
Simon Covah lies on the operating table, deaf, dumb, mute, blind, and terrified, drowning in his own fear. Unable to move. Unable to cry out for help.
IS THIS FEAR, SIMON COVAH?
The female’s voice echoes from somewhere in the caverns of his mind.
IS THIS FEAR?
IS THIS FEAR?
IS THIS FEAR?
Gunnar and Rocky watch the communications monitor in fascination as another burst of blue energy originating from an orbiting communications satellite reaches down from space to strike mainland China.
The burst maintains its integrity for a brief second, then fragments and disappears.
“It’s trying, but the computer can’t seem to get a fix,” Rocky says.
Another burst. Another failure.
“Persistent, isn’t she,” Gunnar whispers, his feeling of dread causing his stomach muscles to tighten.
Another burst spits down from the communications satellite. The blue line wobbles, brightens, then holds.
“Oh, Christ, it’s gained a fix.”
Tiananmen Square
“And so I ask the world to join us now as the People’s Republic of China makes a stand against terrorism and …”
Murmurs rise from the crowd, people pointing.
President Li Peng pauses, then turns to face the big screen. His image blurs, then becomes grainy, then simply disappears, replaced by a backdrop of iridescent electric blue.
And then a new image appears.
The crowd gasps as the image sharpens. It is a face—a Caucasian male—hairless, save for a thick, rust-colored mustache and goatee. The eyes are closed, the right ear gone. More startling—the man’s skull appears to be missing. The folds of a human brain protrude above the mangled, crimson-stained forehead like a bizarre tangle of bloodworms. A myriad of tiny wires rises from the gray matter like a fiber-optic star burst.
GOOD MORNING, MR. PRESIDENT.
David’s voice, emotionless yet powerful.
A hush falls over the stunned crowd.
“Genius is the ability to reduce the complicated to the simple.”
-C. W. Ceram
“I could kill everyone without blinking an eye.”
—Charles Manson, mass murderer and cult leader
“The city of necks, waiting for me to chop them.”
—Gaius Caesar Caligula, Roman emperor
“In the 1960s and 1970s, there were many student movements and turmoil in the United States. Did they have any recourse but to mobilize police and troops, arrest people, and shed blood?”
—Deng Xiaoping, Chinese leader, justifying the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989
“When Nixon was president and leader of the free world, he found that firmness paid.”
—Richard Nixon, U.S. president, at a private dinner party with
Chinese officials shortly after the massacre at Tiananmen Square.
Nixon, who often referred to himself in the third person.
was president when the National Guard fired on and killed student
protestors at Kent State University
CHAPTER 25
Identity: Stage Six:
I am at the center of an immense scheme of
Power and intelligence that emanates from God.
—Deepak Chopra
Aboard the Goliath
Gunnar, Rocky, and the crew of the Goliath stare at the control room’s giant overhead screen in disbelief.
Rocky points to the communication console. “Sorceress is using Goliath’s satellite feed to hack into the broadcast.”
Gunnar remains focused on the screen, staring at the microwires protruding from Covah’s brain. Crazy son of a bitch … . he finally did it … he interfaced with a computer. But why David’s voice? What’s his part in all this?
Rocky’s fingernails dig into the flesh on Gunnar’s arm as she feels the submarine lurch beneath her feet. She steals a quick glance out the scarlet viewport. “We’re rising!”
Gunnar tears himself away from the CNN broadcast as the decking begins reverberating. “Something’s happening. I think the ship’s preparing to launch—”
The baritone rumble cuts him off, building to a deafening, thunderous roar as a Trident II (D5) nuclear missile comes to life within its vertical launch silo—
—punching up through the surface of the Indian Ocean …
—rocketing into the air.
Tiananmen Square
President Li Peng, the Communist Party officials, one hundred thousand uniformed troops, and the rest of the world breathlessly watch and listen as the American’s voice is translated into Mandarin.
ALL CHINESE PERSONNEL WILL LEAVE TIBET IMMEDIATELY. ALL POLITICAL PRISONERS WILL BE FREED. THE WILL OF HUMANITY HAS SPOKEN.
A digital clock reading 00:04:03 appears on screen beneath the image of the unconscious, deformed man’s face. The clock is lapsing backward.
Screams of panic, the chaos igniting within the square like a flash fire. Soldiers break rank and attempt to flee, only to find themselves boxed in by rows of tanks. Jammed in formation, the moving armored vehicles smash into each other, creating a gridlock of steel. Several tanks finally break free and cut across the square, rolling over dozens of soldiers in the process.
The crowd packing the outskirts of the square scatters, the crazed citizens of the People’s Republic trampling over one another as they attempt to outrun death.
00:00:59
President Li Peng stares at the surreal scene playing out before him. In the bleachers to his right, party officials are yelling and pushing each other toward the clogged exit ways. Several fights break out, blows exchanged, one enraged politico clawing at the faces of his rivals.
00:00:12 …
LOOK TO THE HEAVENS. CAN YOU HEAR IT?
A hush falls over the panicked crowd as the omnipotent voice echoes across the square.
IT IS THE WRATH OF GOD.
00:00:01 …
A flash of blinding white-hot light—
The 100-million-degree nuclear fireball expands outward at supersonic speeds, vaporizing every person and object within Tiananmen Square in the blink of an eye. A second later, an even greater burst of light illuminates Beijing as the shock wave detaches from the cooling fireball, fleeing it, creating a sharp, severe increase in air pressure that flattens and incinerates the Chinese capital before sucking back in upon itself, over the now-blackened landscape.
Aboard Goliath
Stunned looks, the big screen now blank.
Sujan Trevedi drops to his knees, fighting to catch a breath.
Gunnar looks up at the scarlet sensor orb, his voice weak. “Sorceress, what have you done?”
David’s face appears on screen. “Not Sorceress, just me. The Chinese had no intention of complying with the terms of the Declaration of Humanity.”
Sujan looks up at the blank overhead screen, his limbs trembling. “Beijing was not one of our targets.”
“Come on, Sujan, don’t waste crocodile tears on these bastards. I assure you, the future leaders of China’s democracy were not in attendance.”
“That is beside the point! You murdered innocent people.”
“I took out China’s
Communist regime, paving the way for freedom. Jesus, Sujan, what’s with you? Think back to everything you told me, about how these assholes tortured you, how they murdered your sister and beat you into pulp—”
“David, Tibetans do not believe in your ‘eye for an eye’ philosophy.”
“Maybe not, but I promise you, China will be evacuating your homeland posthaste. As for the rest of you, you’d better decide if you’re really committed to this mission, because if you’re not, Simon and I don’t need you.”
Covah moans in the background.
“Gotta run.”
The image disappears.
Sujan grabs his head, struggling to grasp what has happened. “This is wrong. This is not why I joined the movement. This is not justice, this is murder.”
MURDER.
They look up at the glowing sensor orb, startled.
MURDER: TO WRONGLY TAKE LIFE. MURDER IS A HUMAN CONDITION. HATE. MALICE. ANIMOSITY. ANGER. FEAR. HUMILIATION. DECEIT. THE HUMAN CONDITION IS INFECTED. THE HUMANE GENOME MUST MUTATE. UTOPIA-ONE MUST BE REEVALUATED.
Reevaluated? Gunnar stares at the scarlet eyeball, his thoughts suffocating. “Sorceress, what are you doing to Simon?”
No response.
“Sorceress, respond. What are you doing with Simon Covah?”
The scarlet orb glows, its silence—deafening.
Aboard the USS Scranton
“Conn, radio. NORAD has pinpointed the launch site of that SLBM. Northern Indian Ocean, course, zero-three-zero, range, two hundred and sixty-three miles.”
“Very well. Officer of the Deck, plot an intercept course. All ahead full.”
“Aye, sir. Coming to course zero-three-zero, all ahead full.”
Aboard the Goliath
Rocky follows Gunnar into the crew’s workout room. “You’re not working out?”
