The Arkhe Principle
Maxwell Rudolf
Copyright © 2017 Maxwell Rudolf
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
https://maxwellrudolfblog.wordpress.com/
ISBN: 154686654X
ISBN-13: 978-1546866541
DEDICATION
MAX GIRL
I love you no matter what. You're the best daughter in the whole world. Every day with you is a gift. There's not a day that goes by where I don't wake up and thank the heavens to have you. You're beyond special to me. You're everything. You're my only daughter, and if I could only tell you how much I love you with words, you'd understand. Burn this memory into your mind. If you ever need me, I'm here. We will always have your back.
Never forget those who came before you.
Always be strong.
Never give up.
You can do it!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All references about religion are done out of fondness and are purely fictional.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
1. The Gratitude Prayer
2. Welcome To the Institute
3. At Montavon's Request
4. Victoria Tesla's Initiation
5. Gungnir's Sacrifice
6. I Abhor Contractions
7. Mega CEO Katherine Dueva
8. The Wotan Option
9. Nothing Beats the Black Watch
10. The MECHA
11. Would You Like a Zappo-5?
12. Do You Have Coupons?!
13. The Egg
14. The Wilds
15. Dating Rules
16. Friends of Dr. Yessei Al-Hussein
17. The Problem with Probability
18. The Bazaar
19. Urban Warfare
20. Adda's Ice Cream
21. Enacting the Arkhe Protocol
22. China?
23. Jigsaw Piece Memories
24. Discarded Empathy
25. Deane's Tooth
26. Victoria's Parents
27. For King and Country
28. Rosie's Decision
29. The Land of the Nothing
30. >>__#:+:#__<<
31. Elizabeth
32. The Underground City?
33. Winter War
34. Mountains Don't Change
35. The Wotan Temple
36. Welcome to Pilly's Peak
37. Seduction and Sex
38. Mushrooms
39. Apache Vick
40. Coincidences Don't Exist
41. Bernuts
42. The DNA Lab
43. The Jefferson Tribe
44. Ten Seconds
45. The Santa Cult
46. Sonics
47. Unregistered Autocrafts in Pursuit
48. The Note
49. What Digi-Prints Tell
50. Site 13
51. The Sword
52. The Oliver Cromwell Suites
About the Author
Super Important Message From Me!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my beautiful and amazing wife. Without you, I would be lost. You are everything to me, and I love you more than I can say. You've carried me through thick and thin, through the ugly times, and the best times of my life. I love you so much. I need you. I will be with you in the afterlife.
To my grandmother without whom I would be equally lost. You are everything to me. You've been so good to me it makes me ill sometimes. You've taught me so much. I did write a book, just like you said.
To my brothers A.T. and D.C. and E.S. You are all inspirations in one form or another. Thank you for being there when I needed you. We don't always have to agree. E.S., you've been helpful throughout my life. Thank you. I mean it. I can't really say more than that. A.T., you're the man, brother. Thanks for everything. D.C., I miss your talks. You introduced me to a whole different world. Wow.
To Dr. M. Y-Z, Dr. C. R., and Dr. G. L. You are the best. All of you have taught me so much. I can only say thank you for everything. This book wouldn't have been written without you.
To all the Snows and the rest of my family. I love you all very much. I wish we could be closer.
To Chris for being awesome all around in every way. Thanks for your help man.
To David for being there when I've needed you. Thank you.
To Scott for everything. I'm trying. I hope someday things can be better.
1 The Gratitude Prayer
The city can never otherwise be happy unless it is designed by those painters who follow a divine original—Plato
Domain of King Edward (D.K.E.)
Year 306
Day 350
The flag of St. George fluttered over the Rex house, its red cross over white waving gently through the winter wind with its Plasstien threads. Rosie had put it up when it was warm, and whenever she saw it, a swell of pride befell her. The symbol upon it was more than just an emblem of their nation, it represented the god of one of the greatest nations of the planet.
Rosie Rex flipped through the vid channels watching news of the war, scanning through commercials about shoes and prescription pills. The news was always the same: grav tanks and advanced, armored MECHA-3 combat suits waging a ceaseless campaign against the Saxon and Roman Empires, the remnants of America, and the partisans who fought for control in the kingdom. Once part of the nation herself, the Americans roamed the barren cityscapes, wastelands, and wilderness, savage and ruthless in their persecution of war.
Over two and a half centuries ago, as St. George, the Romans, and the Saxons closed in on the republic, the Americans launched their last ditch attempt to stop her attackers. They unleashed their manufactured diseases into the air, hoping to stave off certain destruction, even at the cost of their own citizens. The plagues rampaged across the world, flooding over the ruins of war like an hungry leech. The attempts for cures had all failed. Now venturing into the wastes of America was considered an act of suicidal ignorance.
The channel played an old rerun about the American Freedom Party caught inside the Congress multiplex after their surrender, cowering and awaiting their doom. She knew the plot all too well having studied it in school. They all committed ritual suicide, rigging their buildings with high explosives and taking out tens of thousands of Saxons, Romans, and St. George as their entire capital was destroyed in one giant detonation. A temporary ceasefire was affected by all parties and every monument to their god, Thomas Jefferson, was dissolved with Plank fluid. The remaining vestiges of their religion, papers, libraries, churches, and anything to do with their philosophy of freedom were all put to flame. In an unbinding ceremony of cooperation, the American Plasstien Constitution was melted down and tossed into The Dead Ocean with an unnecessary 1,000 kg weight.
The response couldn't have been more predictable considering the nature of their people. Countless Americans took up arms across the wastelands, forming elite war bands, committing acts of terrorism against their enemies. Over the past decade, the attacks had become more frequent; the guerrillas more brazen in their raids. No one was safe despite the outright lies coming from the Kingdom's official statements.
But for Rosie, she simply wanted her husband to fix the house and ready it in case something were to happen. But then he never did much in the way of helping out, and
she'd learned to deal with what she could on her own.
Still in her bathrobe, Rosie had nursed her son off and on all through the night, waiting for Uther to come home, hopefully somewhat coherent this time. After hearing the sounds of gunfire far off in the distance, she'd telecasted Emergency Services. She hoped they would come and crush the Americans who were probably up to their old terrorist activities again.
Now in her mid-20's, she'd labored hard securing her position as an Inspector for the Edwardian Intelligence Division. Having those powers came with several perks, and she sure didn't have a problem employing them when the time was right. She could arrest, detain, and, if necessary, execute suspects with an unannounced, immediate execution sentence, although she'd been forced to justify the killing.
She'd been saving Edwards so she could escape Uther's ugly habits. Finding used needles tucked away under some towels was the last straw. Now, she was buying herself time. Just a few days ago she'd splurged on a ten-Edwards haircut, only to feel pains of guilt a few minutes later. From now on, she vowed, she'd cut her own hair.
Stomach acid churned as she ran confrontational scenarios in her head. Uther, please stop wasting our money. I gave up that lifestyle, and it's time you did too. If you don't stop, I'm going to file for divorce. You know our house hasn't worked in years, and I need you here in case we are attacked. Please stay home tonight. If we're hit, I don't think I can hold them off for long.
Wiping her auburn hair from her eyes, she examined John's compacted face, his mouth feeding on her. His eyes twinkled as he greedily suckled and soon his eyes fluttered shut. The digi-clock read 02:31. She shook her head fighting to keep her eyes open.
Rosie chomped down on her light pen, blinking down at the test question on the E-Reader's dim screen. Still basking in answers about the ecosystem and its impact on the animal kingdom, the next part was becoming much more challenging. Her fingers breezed through the ferals section, answering simple questions about neo-animals and the climate change, but she was in the history section now. If there was one subject she didn't like, it was that. Well, Customs and Manners wasn't fun either.
Name the conflict that ended America.
1. The St. George War of Defense.
2. The War of Retribution.
3. The American War of Instability
4. The St. George War of Independence.
Rosie pressed 1 and the screen slid down.
In your own words, describe the significant differences between our great nation and The Saxon Empire.
That's easy, she said to herself and typed out her response.We have a monarch. We worship the One True God, St. George, not a pantheon of fakes. No other city rivals Londun! She took her time thinking about how best to write in more.King Edward is better at purging the criminals.
The E-Reader's screen locked in place. Maybe this wasn't so easy.
We are 20% larger than their Empire because of our American territorial gains.
Multiple explosions rocked the night air, and when the sound hit, both their eyes opened, and her baby kicked and cried loud enough to rouse a zeroed out alarm system.
"Shh. Daddy will be home soon." Another explosion shook the ground. Scooping him up, she scooted to her bedroom and laid him softly on the bed. Glancing at her dresser, she spied her service fifty caliber Remi pistol, snatched it up, and checked the digi-display. Please, not tonight... She dashed to her kitchen and glanced out. A few blocks away, one of her neighbor's houses was ablaze, and she winced.
Rosie bolted to the hallway and mashed the terminal's fire system readout. She slammed her fist against the wall when it came up red, and nulled it out, watching the screen go blank-black. Where was Emergency Services? Looking up at the digi-clock, she checked the call time. Over an hour and they still weren't there. Useless as ever. Emergency Services was anything but.
Nearby sounds of sporadic mortar explosions filled the night air, and fumes from the cordite leaked its way into the house from a fist-sized hole in the wall. How close were they now? And where was Uther? If only he hadn't been spending everything she would possess the 500 Edwards needed to fix a repair. But worrying about it now wasn't going to magically repair the damage. She added it to her list of redresses.
She clutched her tailored-grip, custom .50 Remi for the thousandth time, closed her eyes, and prayed the Combat Prayer. Time to move Johann. She snatched up her infant son and tucked him in his baby crib, swaddling him tight in a banner of St. George.
Her pulse rose, and she banged the pistol grip against her head. "He will be home! Soon."
But maybe not. Better to take care of what she could now rather than wait around for him and fix everything. A bundle of Plasstien-3 strips leaned against the wall, and she gathered the flexi ones and edged them between the bars of the crib. Johann's temper tantrum was reaching all new heights, and she couldn't hear her thoughts. She pistol-whipped the P-3 flexi sheets and nodded. She slid a few more between them, cramming them tightly together until nothing else could fit between the rails. And now John lay in his own cute little bunker.
The explosions stopped and she sighed. She kissed her little screaming tomato. "You can stop crying now."
After finishing securing the candy-colored strips, she pistol whipped it again, but the slap made him wail, and she picked him up, took him into their bedroom, and nursed him, biting her tongue when he expectantly bit down. Anytime now, E.S. His eyes closed, and she waited a minute before putting him back in his fortress.
Where the hell was Uther and what was he doing this time? She'd tailed her husband around the city several times, secretly recording vids of him, mostly intoxicated. Traitor. The brothels and drug houses he was visiting were marked as "High Threat" targets; places where infiltrators and other professionals cavorted around. Down those streets, data peddlers made Edwards selling war plans, tech, or even dirt on some aristocrat who was sloppy enough to fail in his own security. Blackmail was a lucrative trade, even if the sentence was severe.
The perimeter alarm howled. She cocked her weapon and peeked around the corner. She recognized the lower lights and magnetic hover hum of her Lionheart 380T autocraft anti-gravity vehicle. Nice time for Uther to arrive. She nulled the house's malfunctioning intruder system, put her service firearm back in their safe, and locked it.
Fumbling with his keys outside, he cursed something vile through the door and at the same time, three mortar blasts cut down the frozen trees a few houses down. She paused, considered retrieving her pistol, but he banged again, and she went for the door.
"Open this damn door, Rosie!" He slurred. He kicked at the bottom a few times, knocking snow and mud off his shoe.
"Be quiet..." She slid the bolt, unlocking the door. Uther stumbled and fell into the front wall, stinking of American designer synth drugs, exotic Roman liquors, and expensive slut perfumes.
"Make me something to eat!" His green tweet coat had sex stains on it and so did his pants. He threw his bolo hat on the couch, pushed her aside, and plopped down in his favorite E-Chair.
"Shh! You are always such an oaf when you are like this."
"Make me something to eat, I said!" He barked again, "Be quick about it, too. I haven't eaten all day." He unlaced his boots, knocking more mud and snow over their wooden floor. Johann screamed from the other side of their house.
"Good job. He was asleep."
"If you know what is good for you, you will do what I say. Now, I am not going to ask you again. Make my food." After a few seconds, he rose and knocked over some recent family digi-prints. "And tell that little thing to shut up. Are these savages ever going to stop raiding? When did...d...d you cal...l...l Emergency Services...s...s?" He swayed in his chair.
"A while ago. Look at you... You are gone. Do you even know what day it is?"
"Holster your mouth." His breathing became deeper, his pupils the size of teacup saucers.
She went back in Johann's room, took him out, rocked him back and forth, and let him hold her little
finger. He couldn't be hungry anymore. If she didn't know better, she would swear on the Book of St. George Prayer that he knew when they were fighting. "It is okay now." Rosie hummed a slight variation of 'Crush our Victims.'
"The damn cooler is empty!" Uther complained, knocking over everything inside.
Such ugly behavior. The sooner she could get out from under him, the better she and her son would be. This relationship was only going to end one way. "If you look, behind the buttermilk, you'll find a jar of hot pickles."
"Did...d...d you go to the s...s...store?" Uther asked, slamming the door. Two recipe books fell on his head, and he picked them both up and flung them all the way across the room knocking over a lamp. "Every place is closed...d...d now! You dumb...b...b b...b...bitch!"
"With what money? Do you have a secret cache stored someplace? Because you raided mine. So do not blame me. You should go to bed before you pass out on the floor."
Outside, the shots got closer and a ricochet bounced off the back gate. A huge explosion blew open the back fence and muddied ice flew meters into the air, vibrating their windows.
Uther crouched down and duck-walked to their office room, swaying and bumping into the wall. Rosie cursed under her breath.
"I've already locked the armory up. Get my Remi out. Hurry!" She hastened to the telecaster and dialed E.S. again.
I'm sorry. All of our operators are assisting other citizens. Please stay on the line for the next available operator.
"Uther! Come on!"
"Hhy nnd hp." He said, plummeting down when another explosion hit. His vacant eyes stared up into the sky. She followed him in, tripped over his body, and landed on her arm.
Nice timing. Her keys were all the way across the house, near the window, so she bent down to search him for his. She patted his jacket and found the right key ring.
The Arkhe Principle (Book Book 1) Page 1
