The president waited until everyone had placed their order, directing his next question to the Secretary of Homeland Security. “Secretary Laferriere, what can we expect in Texas?”
“Mr. President, the evacuation of the Houston area is not going well. It’s the same problem we had last month with Luther. People can’t afford to fill their gas tanks and sit on gridlocked roads. No one wants to get on the road unless they have a full tank of gas. Since it can cost upwards of two hundred fifty dollars to fill a tank, most people simply can’t afford it. Most American families have a hard enough time putting food on the table and keeping a roof over their heads. Gas is a luxury they can’t afford.”
“A lot of people are going to die.” Governor Prince felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. “It’s exactly what happened in my state. We just didn’t have enough transportation to get a significant amount of people out. We did what we could, but it wasn’t enough.”
“It gets worse.” Secretary Laferriere continued. “The interstate south of Houston leading down to the Gulf of Mexico is going to end up completely shut down. A few miles from the Sam Houston Tollway they have construction blocking off all but one lane.”
Stacy Reid spoke up. “How is that possible? I thought hurricane evacuation routes had regulations on construction.”
“You are correct, ma’am.” Secretary Laferriere continued. “We’re not sure how it happened, but it did. We can focus on that at a later date. The important thing now is to fix the problem. We have less than twelve hours before Maxine makes landfall. She’s moving very slowly, which makes things much worse. Three hours after landfall, the eye will pass over Houston. Winds in excess of two hundred fifteen miles per hour will push water from the Gulf of Mexico and Galveston Bay inland for several hours. Much of the Houston area will be under water.”
“God help us.” President Powers shook his head. “When will the lanes be open? What is being done?”
“I’m being told that within the hour they will have all the lanes open. Traffic is backed up all the way to Galveston.”
“We can’t sit by and do nothing. We have one state descending into anarchy and another one ready to drown half its residents.” The president shifted in his seat and leaned his forehead on his palm. “I can either sacrifice the lives of millions of Americans or save the world from Iran. I need a third option. Roberto?”
The Director of the CIA turned his wheelchair away from his lunch and faced the president. “Yes, Mr. President?”
“Would it be pos…”
The room began to shake and a loud explosion could be heard outside the White House.
“What in the hell?” Roberto Jimenez exclaimed.
Before anyone else could say a word, massive steel shudders slammed shut over the windows. The doors to the Oval Office and the hallway entrance to the Clinton Room closed, and steel doors dropped down with a thud that startled the people in the room. The lights went out and were replaced by a faint red one. A few seconds apart, several loud explosions rocked the walls of the room.
The White House A.I. spoke. “Mr. President, the Secret Service will be here in a few seconds. Please remain calm.”
“Computer, what is going on?” The president stood up from his chair.
“Please remain calm.”
“I am calm. Tell me what exactly is…”
The steel door quickly raised and four Secret Service agents rushed into the room. Malcolm Powers was lifted off his feet and quickly ushered from the room. Those left behind looked at each other as another explosion rocked the White House.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Howard Beck was sobbing in the garden he had built for his wife. When he built it, he knew that it stuck out like a sore thumb for a mile in every direction. He was confident that Beck Castle was secure. Nothing about this garden was connected to the structure below. The grass was artificial, and the decorations were made of high quality materials that could withstand the elements. Hal was the perfect cemetery caretaker of the graveyard built for one. In the years since Meredith was laid to rest, the garden had only been disturbed three times. All of the curious intruders took pictures and videos of the garden. Hal discreetly erased the evidence after they departed and doctored their GPS devices placing the garden in random locations far away. Meredith’s tombstone didn’t have her name on it. Howard was smart enough to know that his spouse’s grave would raise suspicion. The tombstone was simply marked “Loving Wife.”
“I’m so sorry, my dear, so sorry.” Howard brushed the long white hair from his eyes and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Please forgive me, my love, I just have such a hard time coming here to see you. I know I promised you that I would always have fresh flowers for you to look at, but I just….” Howard wailed and screamed in soul-splitting agony. His cries echoed for miles; thankfully, the only creatures that could hear had more than two legs.
Meredith Beck had developed early-onset Alzheimer’s six years earlier. The diagnosis didn’t upset Howard at all. He simply focused his brilliant mind on curing his wife. The Founding Father of Artificial Intelligence was confident that his genius and limitless resources would prevail. For the first two years, Howard and Hal made great strides in Alzheimer’s research. Their work gave the medical community a ten-year leap in treatment. Howard was tortured by the fact that his hard work did his wife no good. The strides made by the billionaire genius and his A.I. companion were in prevention, not a cure. It was too late for Meredith; she slipped further and further away and Howard was unable to bring her back. The world praised Howard Beck for his breakthroughs; Howard cursed himself a failure.
Meredith frightened Howard as her disease progressed. She would wander around their sprawling mansion in confusion, looking for something familiar to calm her troubled mind. Howard had many rooms in their home converted to exact replicas of different time periods of Meredith’s life. One room was her childhood home. Another room became the first home the couple had lived in many years before. The massive, three story high library was transformed into her university. Howard would quietly slip into each world and hope that he was assigned a role to play. He willingly played the role of uncle, neighbor, and college professor. He only wanted his wife to be happy.
Hal even played his role when Meredith was convinced that the British voice she was hearing was Patrick Stewart. Mr. Stewart had become friends of the Becks and visited their home at least once a year. At first Hal corrected her, which caused her to become very confused and angry. Howard told his A.I. to play along with Meredith and make references to the visits the Englishman had made to their home. When Meredith began to insist that Patrick stop calling so much and just come over and visit her, Howard had no choice but to instruct Hal not to speak within earshot of his wife.
Meredith lost her battle, and The Long Goodbye was finished. Howard had his wife buried in the garden above Beck Castle. She belonged there; no place in the world made her happier. She understood what her husband had accomplished and praised him for his guarantee that mankind’s legacy would survive. Howard and his son were the only people in attendance at her graveside service. Marshall Beck and his father had a very strained relationship. Howard tried his best to be a good father to his son; he tried to in vain to understand the illogical and emotional personality of a child. Howard’s attempt to mold his son into his genius image was met with defiance. When Marshall became an adult and was expected to go out into the world to make something of himself, he had a rough time of it. Marshall thought his father would continue to support him and finance his business interests. Howard did not. Marshall mistook his father’s tough love as being disowned from the family. The two men rarely spoke to each other; with Meredith no longer around to play referee, they both knew they might never speak to one another again.
Howard finally calmed down and ceased his anguished cries. He mumbled sweet and loving affections to his wife and fell asleep beside her tombstone. When he awoke the next morning, he arranged the flowers a
nd sealed them in the climate-controlled container at the foot of her grave.
“There you are, my dear. Aren’t they beautiful? Now you can look at them and be happy. I know you haven’t had pretty things to look at for awhile. I’m sorry for that and I hope you will forgive me.” Howard stood and smiled. “I love you my darling wife. I’m going downstairs for a bit. I’ll come back up and visit with you this evening.”
Howard walked the distance to the Batcave and descended into Beck Castle. He exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to his quarters.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Hal.”
“Did you enjoy your visit with Meredith?”
“I did, thank you.”
“Sir, do you know how long we will be staying?”
“Haven’t decided just yet. What do you have for me this morning?”
“Would you like a status report on the Castle or the usual morning report?”
“Let’s begin with the morning report.”
“Very good, sir. Civil unrest has reached troubling levels in most of the major cities. The Unified National Guard released their quarterly report to Congress this morning. For the first time in two years, statistics pertaining to violent crimes have risen significantly. Curfew violations have also spiked dramatically.”
“Huh. Any explanation for the increase? They’ve managed to keep the pin in the grenade for some time; why did they drop it all of the sudden?”
“Nothing in the report gives any indication to explain the increase.”
“Care to speculate, Old Man?”
“I’m afraid I cannot, sir.”
“Well, keep reviewing the data and let me know if you can venture a guess.”
“I will make it a priority, sir. Shall I continue, or do you have any further questions on the matter?”
“Please continue.”
“Do you recall my prediction on Hurricane Maxine?”
“You mean where you predicted it would make landfall?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmmm. Galveston?”
“That is correct, sir. My prediction was that it would make landfall four point two miles east of the tip of Galveston Island.”
“Are you trying to brag, Hal? Are you going to tell me or not?”
“I do endeavor to impress you, sir. My prediction was the closest to any of the forecast models. Hurricane Maxine will make landfall within from one mile on either side of my prediction.”
“Outstanding, Old Man! I just might let you work part time at The Weather Channel!”
“That will not be necessary, sir. I am content with my current employer.”
“And I am content with you, my friend. Did you send your prediction to the National Weather Service?”
“I did, sir. They did not seem to give it much attention.”
“I will make sure that in the future they pay attention to you.”
“Thank you, sir. Shall I continue?”
“Please do.”
“Wildfires in California continue to spread. Emergency crews have managed to contain the fires to the north and south. Fires continue to spread towards the east.”
“Well, the terrain will see that the fires die out.”
“Correct, sir.”
“How are things at the estate? Anything going on?”
“Everything is running as it should be. Regular maintenance and cleaning are proceeding on schedule with nothing significant to report. Security report is negative.”
“Good, good. What about our route back to the residence? Still blocked by the National Guard in Denver?”
“It is, sir. We will be able to return along the same detour we took to arrive here.”
“Good. That will be all, Hal. I’m going to take a shower and change clothes.”
“Very good, sir.”
Howard walked into his suite and took a long shower. He then changed into a bathrobe and climbed into his bed to get some rest. He awoke an hour later and walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast. While he ate his bacon and eggs and sipped coffee, Howard thought about the state of the world. When he built Beck Castle, its original purpose was to protect Hal and ensure that he would remain online indefinitely. The expansion of the Castle to serve as an ark for mankind was meant as a precaution, to protect the chronicle of human history. Howard never dreamed that he might actually have to use the Castle for something as drastic as housing residents. The thought terrified him. Chaos was the only description that came to mind.
Howard walked to the Operations Center and sat down in his chair. When he pulled himself up to the desk, a one hundred and eighty degree screen that spanned the ten-foot high ceiling came to life. Live video feeds from all over the Castle were displayed. Readouts pertaining to the geothermal power generator blinked and flashed data. Inventories of the food and water stores were in the green. Infrared scans from twenty miles in every direction of the Castle displayed all signs of life.
“Hal, everything looks good here. Anything I’m not seeing?”
“The Castle is operating at peak efficiency, sir. Diagnostics of the ventilation, power systems, and structural integrity are within acceptable limits. I will be conducting repairs to the air condensers in the dormitory wing.”
“Data storage?”
“Incoming data remains at the average rate of one point eight terabytes per day. Our current storage capacity remains at seventy four percent. I estimate that in eighteen months it will be necessary to upgrade our storage capacity.”
Howard had programmed for every major news feed, every news broadcast, every significant publication of print and film to be stored in the archives at Beck Castle. Hal had managed some amazing upgrades in terms of data compression. The same amount of data coming into the Castle would have been twelve times as much only twenty years prior. Nothing was kept off site. Four redundant back up drives were located a hundred yards from the structure in each cardinal direction. Hal was able to mask the Internet traffic coming into the Castle.
“What’s the word on the latest Star Trek movie?”
The relaunch of the successful franchise that began in 2009 had spawned eight sequels and two television series. With Los Angeles in decline, Vancouver had been proclaimed the “New Hollywood.” Howard consumed every bit of it like a drug addict. He even begged his friend, Patrick Stewart, to somehow work his way onto the screen as either a time-traveling Captain Picard or one of his ancestors. At his eighty-seventh birthday party, the Englishman finally relented and agreed to either a cameo or a small recurring role, if they would have him.
“The latest movie is set to begin filming in six weeks. All the principal actors have signed on for this film and two more if the series continues.”
“What about Patrick?”
“Mr. Stewart is in negotiations to either be cast in the next film or as a recurring character in the television series Starfleet Academy.”
“Oh, that is awesome! I can’t decide which I would prefer! What role would he play in either?”
“Rumor around the chat rooms say that he would replace Wil Wheaton as Commandant in the television series after he retires next season. His role in the movie is believed to be the antagonist.”
Howard was bouncing in his chair, his eyes filled with the wonder of a child. “Oh my, oh my! This is so exciting! What do you think he should do?”
“I have no opinion one way or the other, sir.”
“C’mon, Hal! Live a little! Compare the two roles and figure out which one would have the most impact on the storyline!”
“What parameters should my analysis contain, sir? I am not sure what you are asking.”
“You’re no fun, Old Man! Contact Patrick and see if he has time to chat with me. We have to talk about this! I want to know which way he is leaning.”
“Standby, sir. I will attempt to set up a meeting.”
“Hurry up!”
“Sir, his assistant has informed me that Mr. Stewart is
on a plane headed to London. Once he lands, he will be attending a meeting. You have been penciled in at 6pm.”
“Terrific! That gives me time to watch a few Next Generation movies.”
“Shall I play them in order, sir?”
“Sure, why not.”
Howard spent the rest of the morning and afternoon watching all four of the movies. The billionaire welcomed the distraction. It had been some time since he had enjoyed a Star Trek marathon. When 6pm rolled around, Howard talked with his friend for over an hour. The rumors had only been half true. He had not been offered a role in the upcoming movie; he had, however, been offered a recurring role in the television series. The negotiations centered on just how big the role would be. The studio wanted him to appear in eight to ten episodes a season for two years. He was more inclined to half that number. Howard told him that as long as he was healthy, he should meet them in the middle with the possibility for more. Patrick took the advice. Howard ended the call and decided to have dinner. “Hal, I think we will be leaving tonight.”
“Very good, sir. I will prepare for our departure. What time to do you estimate we will leave?”
“As soon as I finish eating we can get going. That will be all, Hal. Play one of Hillary Hahn’s Bach Violin Concertos. Surprise me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Howard finished his meal and packed up his bag. He rode the elevator to the Batcave and walked the distance to Meredith’s Garden and sat on the bench to the right of her grave.
“I’m leaving, my dear. I promise I will visit more often. I realized that not visiting you has caused me more harm than good. Seeing you brings back all the wonderful memories we shared. I love you so very much, my bride. I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out how to keep us together longer. I did my best, but I just didn’t have enough time.” Howard stood up and placed his hand on the tombstone. “Goodbye, my love. I will see you soon.”
Howard climbed into his car and the A.I. led them back towards the estate some fifty miles to the south. Howard spent the time reviewing the current projects and quarterly reports from his four directors at Beck Enterprises. He answered dozens of emails and checked his investments. Eventually Howard took a break, pausing to gaze out the window. Something wasn’t right.
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