The Arkhe Principle (Book Book 1)

by Maxwell Rudolf

"I want to speak to Madam President Edwards."

  "After you have been adapted. Until then, you are confined. She should be in to visit you tomorrow."

  "Then get me her number and a telecaster so I can ring her myself."

  "What's the problem?"

  "I need to speak to her, not to you. Please go find one."

  "I shall return." The nurse locked the door behind her and came back with a mobile telecaster. She dialed in the number, making sure Victoria couldn't spy the number herself and gave her the receiver. Then she walked out.

  "Madam President."

  "Victoria?"

  "After I'm adapted, you don't plan on letting me stay here, do you?"

  "Sorry. No. After several years of training and gene therapy, it's critical you establish a relationship with Johann Edward Rex and Gungnir Odinson. Additionally, you are going to do something no one else has yet been able to do."

  "What's that?"

  "You are going to end this war."

  And Victoria added her to the list with Dr. Bells of people who needed to die.

  30 >>__#:+:#__<<

  INITIALIZING...

  N_SHD

  CHECKING...100%

  PHYSICAL...56%

  RESIDUAL...76.89%

  Readjusting Plank Routes...100%

  Probability Matrix Fractionalization 8%

  Redundancy Check... FAILURE (See Box 12.3)

  Adjusting for error errors in errors, error...

  Values: *Loadout_Values_[8347293423], [38473453], [94994994], [8834682883674]

  Monarchy

  Alpha Marriage w/Secret Exceptions

  Interaction with Chosen: Some

  Threat 8

  >>__#:+:#__<<

  Known : {*|, {x|, {^|, {Ô|

  Modern St. George

  Musical Status 3

  Authoritarian

  Code Value [*********************]

  Linking Schematics...

  Error Code 3.

  Relinking Schematics...

  Access Divine Unit...

  Processing...100%

  >>Line

  SEC LVL 9.998

  System Analysis

  *** **** *** ***

  Accessing Divine Unit...

  Yes?

  I require assistance. Back up procedure malfunction ERROR 23421999 (See box 6).

  Arkhe begs your assistance in The Priority Matter.

  DEL BACK UP

  Access Divine Unit...

  Catastrophic Internal Malfunction (See Box 1)

  **Emergency Plank Distribution Procedure Enacted **

  Primary Unit 2%. Secondary Unit 5%. **Request BACK UP Plank Distribution**

  Request Divinity...

  Request Divinity...

  Request Divinity...

  Catastrophic Internal Malfunction (See Box 1)

  << Line

  End

  31 Elizabeth

  D.K.E.

  Year 325

  Day 103

  The white glow orbs hung about the house like candles encrusted in chandeliers. Some of them knew to glow during certain hours of the day and night while others turned on just at night, opening softly like the petals of a rose. Others fought angrily against the shadows protecting the parameter against designated Hostiles.

  John blinked and freed his eyes from sleep. The glow orbs brightened. He stretched out, feeling his muscles liberate from slumber. Yesterday, when John was exploring his local pubs, he heard a Crier say the weather would be warming up over the next few days. Wondering how often they got it wrong, he got up, put on his black fuzzy slippers, and pulled the golden cord on his robe, constricting himself like a neo-anaconda.

  He walked out of his room and into the hallway, admiring the wooden shine on his floor.

  "Good morning, John," his house Elizabeth said.

  "Good morning, Elizabeth. Boil some water for my tea." John's gaze stuck to the walls; his imagination expanded. The previous owners were probably religious, and if so, he would find a lot of interesting things about his new house.

  Elizabeth had resisted her User-Defined name change to Liz, but John made a bargain: If she would call him John Edward Rex to everyone, including any coppers who might decide to make an unwelcome appearance, then he would call her Elizabeth and not Liz as he was wont to do.

  "Yes, John."

  "Who is administering the garden?" He didn't want the same thing to happen to him that had happened to his mother.

  "The local house community has arranged for the gardens to be tended."

  He checked his cooler. The spice milk for his tea expired a few days ago but he gave the container a sniff and decided it was safe enough. He brewed and let his mind wander to worries about income again.

  "Cross reference my bio with jobs within 35 kilometers of here. The job must also pay a minimum of E-3,500 a month."

  "I would advise you to consider matching personality traits with job qualifications." She replied smartly.

  "Yes. Add and continue."

  Elizabeth well outclassed all of his friend's houses, and he wondered how fast she was with information retrieval.

  Almost instantaneous. "I have your report," Elizabeth said. Her image was projected from a digital T54a model interface, purchased by the previous owner some years back. Elizabeth, a beautiful projection of a woman, was a head shorter than John, and wore a traditional Edwardian dress, most likely from the middle 20th reign when all the dress fashions reminded Edwardian society of the splendor of nature. With godlike precision, she sometimes walked around the house, looking like a princess, just for the joy of dressing up for her owner, in the most laced up, black, short, sexy thing her data had to offer. If John was in a foul mood, the dresses would consume his unwavering attention, and she would shake her ass and smile. By now, Elizabeth had created two emergency dresses to fire extinguish him when his mood was askew.

  Elizabeth, cleaned the house daily using a light beam from the pointy end of a conical device she projected, all while sirening battle ballads from the Pre-Times. Many of the songs had meaningless words. The translation machines had stopped working hundreds of years ago, and the ones found in the Underworld barely worked.

  During school, John attended a number of languages classes and during his time in the 2nd, they expanded those out. On more than one occasion, he was forced to hire out mercenaries and worked with interpreters to arrange for terms of service.

  Why was she bothering to project a device in her hands? When she cleaned, she would always smile and flirt, trying to be the best for him, and use her little cone to zap away the dirt. He wondered if she was playing with him or if this was how the house was getting to know him. Only ten days ago, John had signed the deed. How far would she would go? How far would he let her?

  He looked up at to see where Elizabeth was coming from; a tiny hole in the ceiling. Kingdom Code HTD00202.111a stated it distinctly: It is a capital offense to touch, alter, or interfere projection holes. According to everything he had studied, no one had ever successfully tampered with, broken, or changed whatever was in the hole. This was commonly known as "The Tamper Conspiracy," and was regarded as one of the Kingdom's most tightly held secrets.

  Elizabeth pressed a few keys on her holographic hand-held cone and projected a solid 3-d image of the report, highlighting areas of importance.

  "There are only three strong openings. The first involves you as a clerk down on the West Side at a place called Travoli's, a basic autocraft station." There was no way he was going from a Captain to a clerk. What if someone recognized him from the 2nd?

  "The second position is the main chef at Grill's, a semi-tribal hamburger restaurant up the road. The position pays well but is salaried. There is a high probability you would be working beyond regulation hours under the table. I know the building there. He is a nice and would ease you into your role as chef." John didn't enjoy cooking although he was great at it.

  "The last is working in an unknown capacity at Pilly's Peak on
the North Side crossroads of Lancelot and Camelot Road. 50 hours a week. It pays the least out but comes with substantial side benefits including regular access to women, meeting people outside of your current social circle, martial arts training, pistol, and forensics master certification. You'd be working with the Londun P.D. along with the Military Coalition."

  "You sound keen on trying to sell me the third one. It sounds intriguing."

  "Given your military background, this job would be ideal. You are 24 biological years-old and still childless." Elizabeth glared at John. She created a wooden chair and sat, letting her blue-black dress make a skirt for it. She looked back towards the screen projection.

  "I'm childless...?" John started on his contraction cursing spree. "Honestly, that's none of your concern now, is it? I'm not going to explain anything to you about this. I've been checked out medically and have been deemed fit and suitable. Don't bring that up ever again." John's voice steadied and he grabbed the counter. Acting out against a house accomplished nothing, and he didn't want to be fined either. Nor could he afford the "Partial House Attachment Syndrome" therapy classes.

  "I am sorry John. I was merely pointing it out. King Edward 21st needs children for his Kingdom under Title 1. As a loyal citizen, you must perform your duty to form a family during this time of ultimate crisis. If you do not make progress toward this objective, I will be forced to confess on you."

  "You do that. Meanwhile, I want silence about it."

  "I will refocus to not raise your emotional level."

  John walked over, let out a long sigh, and poured more tea into his 2nd Tank Division retirement mug. He plopped a cube of sugar in and sat on his new black neo-leather chair. He ran his hands over the smooth, warm surface. His new summer chair was worth the hundreds of Edwards he'd paid.

  "When can I get an interview at Pilly's Peaks?"

  "Trials start tomorrow at five A.M."

  "Trials?" For the lowest paying job out of the lot? A sloppy clerk mis-entered John's data and the Military Coalition's Transfer Program was still trying to put the bits in the correct nodes. The bills were piling up fast, and he counted only 67 days before he'd be out of money.

  "Yes. Pilly's Peak demands all its candidates go through a number of them before employment, including intensive psychological screening, various reading programs, and general aptitude assessments."

  John stripped down to his boxers, his ripped chest and abdomen flexed the sculpted, flawless body of a warrior. His form was all natural and made from years of extensive physical training and a regulated diet. A black RJ-16 grav tank inked his broad chest and below, the motto, "For King and Country." He stretched out and grabbed a 100kg barbell, bent, and started doing squats. His legs burned and throbbed, but the feeling only pushed him forward.

  "Why?"

  "The management states: In order to ensure the proper safety of Pilly's Peak's guests, we enforce a strict employment procedure which might seem intrusive for some applicants. We would encourage you to use the E-Connection and search out our other employment opportunities located across the city."

  He re-racked and began doing push-ups. His arms were almost black with ink from awards in the 2nd. His right bicep had rings of confirmed kills.

  "Is any of this legal?" John stood up and wiped the sweat off his face. He looked over at Elizabeth. She looked him up and down, licking her lips.

  "Quite so, John. According to current D.K.E. employment codes."

  "How many businesses are doing this? Cross reference this data with other businesses in the area. You must be in error. I'm going to report this."

  John sipped his tea, letting the hot sweetness burn his tongue.

  "According to D.K.E. E-Connection laws, this type of data is strictly forbidden to citizens with a Regular State Classification."

  "Look, then I need to telecast this in. I want this sent to the highest levels of the Londun P.D. I want return Alpha Level Verification as well."

  He moved to the body bag and started his routine. Elbow. Knee. Jab, jab, jab. Duck. Kick. Punch.

  "I am sorry. This violates several codes. According to D.K.E. Law Number 6904a-6904f, 'It is forbidden for a building or house to report a false crime.'"

  "So you can't even report this because it's legal, even though this sounds like an effing terrorist network?" Right cross, dodge, knee. Jab, jab.

  "You are becoming emotional. Please relax. I am your house and here to help you. Would you like for me to arrange for an interview at one of the other locations? Your language is inappropriate."

  He snorted at her. "I am honored to be considered for the last job, but something is faulty. What kind of people go to this place? Show me some scenes."

  "Yes, dear."

  He stopped. Elizabeth and the projection screen pixilated and became a large three-dimensional Pilly's Peak. The lavish bar was a mixture of old Edwardian 15th style architecture intermixed with hints of modern Saxon. Bright warm colors basked the expensive furniture with elegance. The scene moved around. Inside, everyone wore luxurious aristocratic garb, and by the look, completely Plasstien free. Glasses of red wine clinked in abundance and many women hid their faces behind black distorted, humanoid masks. Most of the men wore some variation of an officer's uniform from the Military Coalition. Why hadn't he ever seen this?

  The image nulled and, seconds later, lit up again with images of bright, pastel lights flashing from the ceiling. Men and women in skin-tight geometric jumpsuits with brightly-colored masks, danced with each other. John moved to the edge of his seat. It was highly repetitive and sounded like the old machines down in the Smith Zone on the South Side of Londun. Bodies shouldn't move like that. It was obscene, yet he couldn't peel his eyes off.

  As he continued on, a strange other-worldly sense overwhelmed him. He stared on, his gaze fixating on one individual woman. Her medium length magenta hair led a hint of blond, and her athletic body, long legs, flat abs, and a chest most women would kill for, kept his attention. The woman's mask was encrusted with light reflecting crystals making her mask shine like thousands of tiny diamonds. He sensed danger rising like an invisible inkish fog from her skin. She sat with her back against the wall in the rear of the room, arms folded.

  "Freeze and cast in towards the woman there."

  The image locked in place and focused on the red and black harlequin. As the image became larger, John's eyes fixed on hers. Beyond the mask, her sharp blue eyes betrayed a savagery he'd never beheld in a woman, and he fought the surge of hormonal sexual energy. He stood up, stomped his foot. He shook his head, trying to calm down, but his dick stiffened. John wanted to close his eyes and think of her and get off, something he just didn't do. She invaded his thoughts like an American Designer Synth Relaxer.

  "It's me," she said. "Come and find me."

  Time stopped. Another connection made.

  What just happened?

  "Elizabeth..."

  "Hey, baby. Something I can help you with?" She licked her lips, looking down out John's groin.

  "Um. Play something faster." His face turned cherry red, and this was not appropriate. "...matching this dance here. I... want this scene rewound and dubbed with something that will match their movements."

  "Your current musical catalog is inadequate for this function, but I'm here."

  "Just keep speeding it up until it matches, Liz. Are you going to fight me on everything?" The sexual urge started to fade.

  "Elizabeth is my name." She stood up, glared at him, and changed to a long black dress draping her frame like a lampshade. She stuck her nose up and started dusting with a projected digi-cleaner. "Speeding up a song to this tempo would violate Standard Musical Theory. Would you like for me to play, 'The 2nd Sun Tank Division Marches?'" Elizabeth asked.

  "Null out the image and play something else," he demanded.

  Serene music fluttered through the air again and surrounded him with grace, putting his soul at ease. The Lewis Edwardian string quartet played, "Steel
Your Soul, For I am With You," a song inspired by the play "Living Now" by Henry T. Abbott. The sounds of the funerals of his dead compatriots. His palms shook and he closed his eyes. Not again. He didn't want to think anymore about the war. His dreams were enough.

  "Elizabeth."

  "Yes?" Her voice filled the uncomfortable space between them.

  "Cease play and delete that from your playlist. Try some Beatles."

  "I have removed the song. Are you sure?"

  "Play my damn music. Do not try to influence me sexually. You are not real."

  He didn't want to remember the war now, but the dreadful song filled his mind like a bucket of sand at The Dead Ocean beach. The war ghost returned. Bloodied. Dead. Rotten.

  32 The Underground City?

  The Saxon Empire

  Berlin

  "Gungnir Odinson. We give your brother a one-in-three chance of living. Our tests show industrial cancer, and this particular kind is extremely difficult to eradicate. The Center here doesn't have the resources to treat him. Honestly, you should go to the Temple and offer a sacrifice to the gods."

  So he complied with their request, hunting down the doctor's children and maiming them, taking his time, praying, enunciating the runes. He sometimes slaughtered their loved ones and other times hung them to Wotan. Each death he recorded and sent to the doctors and the administration.

  In less than three days, he was transferred to an experimental anti-cancer program called Alpha Freyja. Its advanced state-of-the-art tech promised the best results, but progress was slow in trying to understand the Pre-Times machine's potential. Once admitted, his odds skyrocketed to an astounding 98% chance of survival.

  After he recovered, Gungnir explained to the hospital personnel who he was and what kinds of things he did. His sentences ended in '...and with full permission of the Empire.' The typical lecture involved graphic details of some of his most brutal killings and his extended rapefests of widowed American women that went on for weeks, sometimes. Really, his stories varied depending on the listener. Afterward, he felt a kind of post-murder gloat and breathed their fear in.