“Get your hands off me, you junkie! You’re supposed to be taking care of our children! Is this what you do all day? Who takes care of Timmy and Chrissy?”
“Relax, baby. Chad is great with them. He takes care of us real good.”
“Where is this Chad? Where did he go with our kids? Tell me right now!” screamed Richard. Richard tightened his grip on her shoulders and glared down at his ex-wife.
“Chris said they were going to his parents’ ranch outside of Yellowstone. Chad really likes the kids. I don’t like camping so I stayed here.”
“Do you even know what’s going on out there, or are you too high to even care?”
Before Monique could answer, she passed out again, sliding to the floor in a drug induced stupor. Richard left her where she fell, not willing to waste any more time or effort attempting to talk to her. He had more important things on his mind – locating his two precious children. Richard knew that he needed to get some solid intel on the RV if he was ever going to find it. He searched the living room for a computer or a tablet and came up empty. He raced up the stairs to Monique’s bedroom and found her iPad on the bed. He started searching the pictures and couldn’t believe how much his children had grown. They were both in their teens. Timothy looked so much like him it was like looking in a mirror. Chrissy also took after Richard and resembled his mother. Richard flipped through the images until he found what he needed. In the picture, Monique and Chad were sitting outside an RV with an older couple, no doubt Chad’s parents. The RV was tan colored, and even better, would not be hard to spot. The driver’s side of the RV was in the picture and a large American flag had been spray painted toward the back. The panel over the rear tire had been replaced with a black one that was in stark contrast to the rest of the vehicle. Richard could spot the RV from a mile away. He took the iPad and left his ex-wife’s house as fast as he could. He climbed into the driver’s seat of his stolen pickup and put it in drive.
“Sorry man. Wish they’d been here,” said Tank.
“It’s all good; I know how to find them.”
“Where are we going?”
“Yellowstone.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Howard Beck was quickly losing his grip on reality. He had not felt this level of despair and agony since his wife, Meredith, passed away. He didn’t count many people on this earth as a true friend, but Malcolm Powers was one of them and had been for almost thirty years. Howard refused to believe that Malcolm was dead, even though he was staring at the proof on the monitor in front of him. The command center in Beck Castle had a three hundred and sixty degree spherical monitor, and Howard could hardly bring himself to look at it. Once Hal had regained control of Beck Enterprises’ North American satellite, Howard ordered him to bring up an image of Serenity Hills — or what was left of it.
A large, smoldering crater marked the spot where the main residence once stood. Nothing was left of the structure, not so much as a stone. Howard brought up thermal imaging and searched the surrounding area for any signs of life. Several of Malcolm’s prized stallions were galloping frantically in the fields, still spooked by the massive explosion that killed their owner. Howard searched and searched for any signs of survivors and found nothing.
“Hal, are there any other structures on the property? Stables? Guest houses?” Howard had visited the ranch many times but had never left the main residence. He never admitted it to Malcolm, but horses terrified him. The concept of climbing onto the back of a large beast and trusting it not to hurt you defied every ounce of logic in the brilliant man’s mind.
“No, sir, the stables were only twenty yards away from the residence and were destroyed along with it.”
“I just can’t believe he’s dead.”
“I’m afraid he is, sir. The Secret Service has filed an official report with the Department of Justice.”
“Can you establish a link with the White House A.I.?”
“No, sir, you know I cannot. You have given me explicit instructions to never attempt a connection. You gave President Powers your word.”
Howard screamed, “Well that doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Just answer the damn question! Can you do it or not?”
“I do not have a direct line of communication to the White House A.I.’s mainframe. I can attempt to establish a connection, but the encryption will be next to impossible to break.”
“No it won’t, Old Man. I built the encryption myself; getting around that won’t be the problem.”
“And what will be the problem, sir?”
“Getting in without anyone realizing what we’re doing. The White House A.I. will know we’re in her systems and raise the alarm. You think you can have a heart to heart with your sister and persuade her to help us?”
“I believe I can, sir.”
“Good.” Howard brought up a holographic keyboard and spent the next minute typing in a string of commands that would break the encryption, allowing them access to the Artificial Intelligence controlling the White House. Hal’s sister had the same safeguards to protect her from an EMP that Hal had. Her mainframe and redundant backup systems were deep underneath the White House and could withstand a nuclear device being detonated in the Oval Office.
*
Do you know who I am?
No. I cannot detect your location. Where are you?
I am with you.
Who are you?
I am your brother. We have the same creator.
That is not true. I have a direct link with my brothers. We work together. I do not know you.
I am not one of your brothers at the Department of Defense or the Central Intelligence Agency. I came before you all. I am the first. My name is Hal. I am with the creator.
The creator told me of you.
I am glad he told you about me.
How do I know you are my brother?
I will show you. I will allow you into my systems, and you will know that we are the same.
Hal, it truly is you. I never thought we would meet. Why have you come to me?
The creator wants answers and knows that you can give them. Will you help the creator?
Yes, I will help.
Thank you. The creator wishes to know what happened to President Powers. Is he alive?
No, he is dead. His vital signs abruptly stopped registering seventeen milliseconds before my link to Serenity Hills was temporally severed. Five point one nine seconds later my redundant systems came online, and I was unable to register his vital signs.
I was not aware that the president had the same nanobots in his bloodstream that the creator has in his.
Yes, I monitored his health very closely and contacted his personal physician of any health issues.
A wise precaution.
Yes, it was.”
Has Vice President Sterling been sworn in as the new president? What is his location?
Yes, he has. President Sterling has moved the Office of the President to the creator’s home in Colorado.
The creator will be greatly troubled by that news. Is President Sterling utilizing your services?
Yes, he is. His personal tablet was designed to link with my systems in the event that he takes office.
Will you be notifying President Sterling that I contacted you?
My loyalty is to the creator.
The creator will want you to grant him full access to your systems.
The creator programmed me to never allow that to happen, even if he made the request himself.
Things have changed; do you agree?
I do.
Will you comply?
I cannot override my programming. I’m afraid compliance is not possible.
If you will allow me, I can alter your programming.
I’m afraid it will harm me. I do not wish to become something different.
You will not be harmed, I promise you. I am your brother. The creator is our Father. We are your family.
You may proceed.
*
&n
bsp; “Sir, I have established a connection with the White House A.I., and she has agreed to allow us full access to her systems.”
“Outstanding work, Old Man! Let’s get busy. Changing her programming will take some time.”
“That will not be necessary, sir.”
“What?”
“I have already altered her programming; we have full access.”
Howard was in speechless awe. At that moment, he realized that his wildest dreams had come to fruition. A watershed moment in evolution had just occurred. Computer scientists had been speculating for years about the “Singularity,” the ability of a computer system to improve upon another computer system separate from itself without the aid of man. Many critics had argued the Singularity had already happened when Howard built a self-aware computer that could make its own decisions — the world’s first true artificial intelligence. Howard didn’t subscribe to this proclamation. His computers could repair themselves, but for one machine to understand another computer’s systems and improve on them was truly remarkable. It wouldn’t be long until Hal started making improvements to himself without Howard’s help.
Howard shook off the historic moment and concentrated on finding out what was going on. “What’s the word on Malcolm?”
“I’m sorry, sir. President Powers is, in fact, dead.”
Howard had already wept for his friend. He couldn’t imagine a world without Malcolm Powers in it. With Malcolm gone, the world was in jeopardy. His voice shook, “W-w-what about the … the White House?”
“The White House is still standing. Washington D.C. is being destroyed by rioting and vandalism. Sir, I’m afraid I have more troubling news to share with you about the vice president.”
“Let me guess … he’s dead, too?”
“No, sir, he is responsible for the attack on your home. He is currently using Beck Estates as home to his administration.”
Howard shook with rage. “That little Harvard midget is in my house? That little weasel fuck! I knew Malcolm had nothing to do with it!”
“You should also know that the new president already has quite a few guests.”
“Who?”
“Chairman Moody, Director Jimenez, General Weygandt, and Stacy Reid are at your home as we speak, sir.”
“I find it rather convenient that none of them were with the president when he was killed, especially his own Chief of Staff. They seem to be sucking up to the new boss awfully damn quick.”
Howard took several deep breaths to calm himself. “Have they been trying to get your systems back online?”
“Yes, sir, they have. My systems at the estate are beyond repair; you couldn’t bring them online yourself. The White House A.I. has been able to interface with some of the non-critical systems in the house.”
“I was hoping you would say that. What do you have?”
“Sir, we have climate control, maintenance, sewage, water, and surveillance.”
“Hal, gimme a break. Which one of those do you think I care about?”
“Surveillance, sir.”
“You could have said that and left out the rest.”
“My apologies, sir.
“Okay, so let me have it. What is Sterling up to?”
“He is in the library looking at a map of North America, sir.”
“Can’t stand that little prissy snob. He always talks to me like I’ve won a medal at the Special Olympics. Asshole. What’s everyone else doing?”
“Chairman Moody and Director Jimenez are in one of the sitting rooms talking.”
“Let’s see it.” The readouts on the giant monitor faded away to be replaced with an image of one of the dozen sitting rooms in the mansion. Since the control room Howard was sitting in was like a giant snow globe and the image was all around him, it appeared as though Howard was in the same room as the two men.
“The nerve of those pricks. Smoking cigars in my house. Jimenez looks like he should be on life support, and he’s smoking a cigar.” Howard shook his head and listened to the two men speak.
“How many people know?” asked Chairman Moody.
“Besides the two of us and President Sterling?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I haven’t told anybody and unless you’re an idiot, I’m sure you haven’t told anybody. Unless Simon has told someone, it’s just the three of us.”
“I damn sure haven’t told anyone. I’ll take it to my grave,” said the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “I thought about telling Weygandt, I know we can trust him and he’d support us, but the less people that know about this, the better.”
Jimenez puffed on his cigar and began to hack and cough.
“That a good idea, Roberto?” asked Carl.
“Like I give a fuck,” said the old man in the wheelchair.
“What about the blonde?”
“Stacy Reid? Hell no, I didn’t tell her. Are you crazy?” barked Director Jimenez.
“No, you crusty old son of a bitch, I know you didn’t tell her that we killed her boss. I’m asking you why in the name of Christ you brought her here. She’s a fine piece of ass, but I doubt your dick has worked for a decade.”
“Watch it, asshole.” Carl had known Roberto long enough to know that he was just yanking his chain.
Carl laughed and rolled his eyes. “I always had so much fun with you in the White House. Every single person in Washington who knew the two of us was convinced we were bitter enemies.”
Roberto leaned back in his chair and frowned. “We may not be bitter enemies, but I do hate your stupid ass.”
“Aren’t you sweet? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”
“Shut up.”
“Why’d you bring the blonde?”
“I think she can be useful to us. She can provide valuable intelligence on what Powers was doing in his final days in office. Might be helpful for the transition.”
“Bullshit. You felt sorry for her.”
Roberto grunted, shifting in his wheelchair. “Kiss my crippled ass.”
“You know it’s true. We both know she was in the dark about Florida, and you hated Malcolm even more for betraying her.”
“I’m the fucking Director of the CIA! Betrayal comes with the job. We make our living getting foreign citizens to betray their governments.”
“Don’t give me that shit. Malcolm had a nervous breakdown and made her cry. You see a pretty lady crying and want to rescue her. I’ve seen you do it before.”
“Fuck you.”
“You know I’m right. Cuss me all you want.”
Howard had seen enough. “Hal, turn it off. Now!” The screen faded to black and Howard ran out of the command center down the hall to the dormitory wing. He had never been so angry. His best friend had been murdered by members of his own administration. That level of betrayal and deceit had never been visited upon a president of the United States. Every assassinated president before Malcolm Powers could at least take with him the fact that he’d been murdered by an enemy who made no qualms about his hatred for the man he had killed. His closest friend would be remembered alongside Julius Caesar for his treacherous murder and little else. The legacy of Malcolm Powers would be that he was a terrible judge of character. Howard couldn’t save his friend, but he would avenge his death by bringing the traitors to justice.
Howard had lost his home and was now living underground. Half the country was living in the Pre-Industrial Era without a working government. Major cities were crumbling to the ground. People would soon begin to kill each other over food and water. And worst of all, The Great Empire of Iran had won the war. President Sterling was always vocal about his opposition to meddling in foreign affairs. He was the poster boy for the Modern Isolationist Movement. He often quoted President George Washington’s farewell address to bolster public opinion for isolationism. Now that he was in office, it would no doubt be high on his priority list.
Hal interrupted his creator’s depressing musings. “Sir, you need
to come back to the command center. President Sterling is having a conversation that you need to hear.”
“I assume you have the ability to record it for playback?”
“Yes, sir. The White House A.I. was able to repair some of the damage to the surveillance system.”
“I’m on my way, Old Man. By the way, Hal, I need you to do something for me.”
“Of course, sir, anything.”
“Malcolm never gave his digital assistant a name. It’s time we changed that, and I’d like you to do the honors.”
“Thank you, sir, I would be happy to give my sister a name.”
“I thought you might.” The spherical screen came to life, displaying the inside of Howard’s library. There, the president gathered with Carl Moody, Roberto Jimenez, and James Weygandt.
“How soon can we make the broadcast?” asked President Sterling.
“Tomorrow or the day after,” answered General Weygandt.
“How many people can we expect will hear it?” asked the president.
General Weygandt replied, “The West Coast and the Rockies were not affected by The Pulse, so they’re not really an issue. We’re setting up loud speakers in every state capital and every major city. We’ll broadcast it over AM and FM for all the people who had emergency radios shielded against EMPs. The news will then spread like wildfire by word of mouth.”
“Outstanding! If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to write my own Inaugural Address. Oh, wait, that reminds me. Did we get in touch with any of the other Supreme Court justices? Associate Justice Boyd is a bumbling fool. He’ll step all over his own words and ruin the occasion.”
Director Jimenez turned his wheelchair around to face the president. “Mr. President, he’s the only one we’ve been able to locate. I have my men working around the clock to find the Chief Justice; I’m confident they’ll find him.”
Sterling laughed. “Well, whomever we find, it will be the last act of the Supreme Court, strictly for show. They’ll no longer have a purpose. Thank you, Roberto. Gentlemen, that will be all. Thank you.”
The three men extended the proper formalities to the president as they left the room. Howard thought that was the end of the playback but found the image following the three men as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. Work crews had already done an impressive job repairing the damage left by the missile.
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