Matrix Man
Page 23
Kim smiled and mentally released Martin's prerecorded interview. They'd considered going live, but what with the importance of Martin's current duties, they'd decided not to. This way Martin could dedicate all of his processing capacity to making sure that the satellite feed worked as it should.
And no matter what the public thought about Martin, the fake footage would either convince them of Subido's guilt or cause them to believe in the VMG. Either way, it would move them a step closer to the truth.
Kim's world suddenly shook. She heard a muffled explosion followed by a host of alarms. A voice came over the intercom, a real voice this time, tight with fear.
"We've taken a missile strike in the forward quarter of the main hull. Automatic systems and damage-control parties are working to assess and control the damage. The ship is in no immediate danger of sinking. As a safety precaution, however, we would ask all non-crew members to assemble on the main decks. If you're not sure of which assembly area to report to, check the key card for your cabin; it's the same color as the wall graphic in your assembly area." The voice went on, but Kim ignored it. She had work to do.
Corvan ignored Martin's sound bite, knowing the words by heart, and being a lot more concerned about the .50-caliber slugs which had just stitched a line of blue dots across the top curve of the fuselage.
The landing gear hit with a hard thump, and the copilot hit one of two red buttons. On the starboard side of the plane, the side away from hostile fire, a thirty-foot section of fuselage dropped outward to form a curved ramp. The troopers wasted no time bailing out. No matter how bad it might be outside the aircraft, conditions inside would soon be worse. The plane made one helluva target.
A hundred yards away Carla Subido swore softly as she rolled off the ramp and landed with a hard thump. She was getting out of shape and hated herself for it.
Climbing back to her feet, Subido looked for the low-lying headquarters building, saw it, and started that way. Numalo was somewhere close by. Logic told her that—and something else as well, a deep but invisible bond which linked the two of them together.
Subido pushed the thought away. Today she'd set things right. By killing Numalo she'd free herself from the confusing emotions and protect herself from those who would harm her. Otherwise the WPO leadership might learn that she'd been something more than Numalo's pawn. And that would never do, because she had plans to regain the power that she'd lost and would allow nothing to stand in her way.
The Immortals opened up with a machine gun. It threw up geysers of dirt as it traversed the field. The heavy slugs caught an entire row of Smith-Shad's irregulars trying to dash forward and threw them around like rag dolls. It was an extremely graphic lesson and one which all of the attacking forces learned instantly. Using what little cover was available, the WPO troopers began to return fire.
"Hold it, hold it," an unseen noncom said into Subido's left ear. "Wait for the mortars ... now!"
Up ahead something made a series of crumping sounds, and a long line of WPO troopers scrambled to their feet and raced forward. Subido was right behind them. As long as the auto mortars continued to fire, the Immortals would keep their heads down.
Martin's prerecorded interview came to a close, and Kim cued Corvan. She simultaneously positioned the robo cam for a wide shot with him in foreground and the conflict behind. As the mortar barrage began, a small contingent of Exodus Society volunteers rose and ran toward Numalo's headquarters building. Hearing Kim's "take it," Corvan began to speak:
"So, whether you believe Martin or not, you've seen what the Video matrix generator can do. It can make the dead speak, it can turn truth to lies, and yes, it can do the reverse as well. And that's what these men and women are fighting for, not just the right to run the world, but the power to define what truth is. When this battle is over, you will learn that the president didn't endorse a single-world government, that an actor was used to impersonate him, and that his wife was murdered to keep it all a secret." At that point a .223-caliber slug went through the robo cam and dumped the feed to black.
Kim took Corvan's eye cam just as the Klaxon began to sound, accompanied by a prerecorded voice. "Attention, all personnel! Attention, all personnel! Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"
The deck began to tilt. Kim stood as her chair tried to roll away. Her fingers flew over the touch-sensitive keyboard. She had to dip electronically into News Network 56's memory banks in Seattle, pull up the information she'd stored there while working out of the E-FEX-1 studios in San Francisco, and give it to Martin. He'd send it all over the world.
But the seconds were slipping away and when the ship's power went, so would her ability to get the information out. "The close, Rex! Do it now!"
The WPO troopers rose like a camouflaged wave and rushed toward the veranda. Caught up in the spirit of the moment, the Immortals did likewise, rising from behind their hastily placed sandbags and rushing out to meet their attackers. This was war as it should be fought! Direct and brutal, human to human, no quarter given. Knowing that their every thought and action was being recorded for posterity, the Immortals rushed the enemy guns.
Numalo sauntered along behind, his FN assault rifle tucked under one arm like a bird hunter carries a shotgun, a smile on his handsome face. How good the air smelled! How fine the veldt! These were the pictures he'd take with him.
Up ahead the WPO troopers smashed into a line of Immortals, and Subido looked for a way through. At first everything was a melee of hand-to-hand combat, then the line opened up as unseen forces pulled the tangled combatants right and left. Then she saw Numalo strolling toward the fray, every inch the gentleman, not a trace of fear in him. He smiled and started her way.
A bullet hit Subido, punched its way through her shoulder, and spun her around. She stumbled, almost fell, and caught herself. It hurt worse than anything she'd ever imagined.
Subido forced herself to stand, to face Numalo, who was closer now, still smiling.
Subido brought her Uzi up and leveled it at his stomach. Numalo smiled broadly as if daring her to pull the trigger. Subido tried but couldn't find the strength.
A bullet hit Numalo from behind. Blood spurted from the front of his leg. A stray, a sniper, it made little difference. The African fell, forced himself to stand, and swayed like a tree in the wind. He used the FN like a cane.
Subido held her left hand against the wetness and fought the dizziness which threatened to overwhelm her. Now he was there, only feet away, wounded but still smiling. Numalo spoke first.
"We came damned close didn't we?"
Subido noted the "we," knew that Numalo was still pushing her buttons, still manipulating her. She felt very, very tired. "Yes, Samuel, we came damned close."
They were standing there, searching each other's eyes, when the rifle grenade exploded next to them. Both died instantly.
A thousand yards away, and completely unaware of their deaths, Corvan heard Kim's voice in his inner ear. He could tell that she was desperate. Something had gone wrong and she wanted him to wrap. Fear knotted Corvan's stomach as he gathered his thoughts. He used his eye cam to pan the battlefield.
"So there you have it. Or do you? If the video matrix generator can make people believe that President Hawkins favors a single-world government, then it can make anything look real. Even this.
"We can no longer assume that what we see on television news is real, that cameras show us the way things really are, 'that a picture's worth a thousand words.' Just one video matrix generator in the wrong hands could be used to enslave the entire human race.
"And now, as our numbers start to crowd us off the planet, and we run short of good food and clean air, truth is one of the few commodities we have left. That's why copies of the VMG design parameters are being sent to every network and television station all over the world. It's too late to suppress the video matrix generator, or the technology which made it possible, so all we can do is make sure that everyone has it."
There was a rat
tle of gunfire and Corvan looked up into a second wave of charging Immortals. "Remember what I said. Question everything you see and hear. Good luck!" And all over the world the picture faded to black.
Epilog
Two years, one month, and four days after what the press liked to call the Computer Coup, a man and a woman stepped out of a large surface vehicle and into Cape Canaveral's early morning air. Ground fog shrouded the surrounding equipment with an air of mystery, and a variety of radios made a low murmur in the background. A few short steps would carry them to the roll-away stairs and the shuttle beyond.
They paused, ignoring the people around them to stare up into sky, knowing it was their new home. They were close now, closer than married people usually get. Some said it was the custom-designed interface which allowed them to communicate via thought. Others maintained that it was their harrowing ordeal, followed by more than a year and a half of public hearings, trials, and interviews.
But the man and woman knew it was something else. They knew it came from being a whole which was more than the sum of its parts, from a sharing which went deeper than conversation, from a feeling they couldn't describe to others.
They remembered the terrible fear, the agony of calling each other to hear only silence, followed by the unexpected thrill of seeing each other two weeks later.
By then Kim had spent four days drifting around the South Atlantic, and Corvan had spent the same amount of time in a series of hospitals, first in Africa, then in Europe, and finally in the United States.
Although the wound in his right leg wasn't crippling, it did require surgery and that put him out of circulation for a while. In the considerable confusion which followed the assault on Numalo's headquarters, both had assumed the other's death. And when things were finally straightened out and the endless round of official investigations had begun, they'd stayed together until winning their way to official freedom some six months before.
A limited kind of freedom, since their celebrity made them unemployable and they were constantly harassed by the press. Still, the glare of the media spotlights protected them from the possibility of WPO- and Exodus Society-generated reprisals, and provided them with one last chance.
Partly because it made good sense, and partly as a result of the Exodus Society's relentless lobbying efforts, the first attempt at space colonization was about to begin. And predictably enough, the initial trip would be part science and part hype. Somewhere up above, the huge ship Outward Bound swung in Earth orbit and awaited the last of its passengers. Among them were Rex Corvan, the Mars Colony's Public Information Officer, and his wife, Kim Kio-Corvan, their Chief Communications Specialist.
Together the husband-wife team would report on the one-way trip to Mars, life in the colony, and anything else which might strike their fancy.
Meanwhile the video matrix generator had taken its place in the worldwide community of electronic tools. In doing so it spawned a whole generation of commercials by dead public figures, one thousand, four hundred, and eighty-six lawsuits, and endless rounds of social commentary. Where will it lead? they wanted to know.
But Corvan and Kim had their answer. The VMG had led them first to each other and then to the stars. The rest of humanity would have to find its own way.
Together they picked up the case which had "MARTIN" stenciled across its side, smiled at each other, and climbed the stairs to the shuttle. They never looked back.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1990 by William C. Dietz
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-0682-1
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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