Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One)

by Trey Copeland

  Turning his swivel chair away from Stalling's desk in frustration, he peered out the glass-paneled north wall of the sprawling, high-ceiling office. Poised just above the evergreen rainforest surrounding the entire campus, he set his mind free amongst the treetops in effort to calm the tempest stirring in his heart.

  He hated to wait on anyone, especially on Stalling. The man left him in a lurch of confusion so often, only to expect immediate and complete absorption of the latest developments upon his return.

  Who am I kidding? I live for action, and no one produces it better than Stalling. It was filling the time in-between that he hated.

  A long, never-ending list of top priority projects crucial to the daily operations and expansion of Alterian Enterprises could have kept him busy while he waited. From the active recruitment and growth of their patented human telecommunications network, to prioritizing the next suite of educational programs to the expansive entrainment library, it all needed Antone's seal of approval.

  The thought of work relaxed Antone, evoking a rare smile of satisfaction, confident in his ability to realize any challenge, regardless of the inherent difficulties found in any of them. For Antone, work provided peace from a chaotic world, a sense of control that kept him sane. He was a fixer, it was what he did, who he was, taking on the challenges no one else wanted or was capable of handling and turning them into usable parts for the great A.E. machine, the vehicle used to shape and help realize a better future.

  A minor twinge of panic invaded his thoughts and he did his best to suppress the lethal emotion. For the "fix" to the biggest challenge A.E. had ever faced continued to elude him. His faith in Stalling was as strong as ever. Instinct, backed by years of firsthand experience, told him the man would find a solution, one that would require Antone's unique skill set. But not since Stalling Alterian provided him a new lease on life had Antone struggled in his belief that the Universe actually conspired to make his world a better place.

  Anger, the old emotion that ruled Antone’s life prior to meeting Stalling or Janison, dictating his impulsive and often violent actions, pushed aside panic and once again strived to consume his thoughts. Born Ecifrican, the lowest rung on Antium's ancient caste system, Antone's always close to the surface anger originated from the bountiful and flagrant injustices constantly dealt by the Drakarleans to Antium's other, long-conquered races, especially the Ecifricans. Stalling provided Antone a means by which to channel that energy toward a bigger cause, a gift he thanked the Universe for every day.

  Janison's betrayal had derailed him from that cause, stoking embers of fury long dormant despite knowing it served no good purpose. He was overwhelmed with emotion, a disposition he knew made him useless in the process of creatively visualizing and/or contributing toward finding a solution, a role he desired beyond words. Janison's deceit made Antone question his core abilities, robbed him of his much-needed semblance of control, and tainted the means in which he held his optimistic vision of the future. Worst of all, it had caused Antone to second-guess the foundation of his belief in what others called God.

  Do not dwell on that which you cannot control, the outcome of the situation and my future relationship with Janison completely depend on how I react now.

  Despite the insightful reminder, rage continued to mount as he retraced Janison's steps over the past year. What made it so damned personal was the painful fact that for any of Janison's plans to work, it required slipping past Antone and his extensive security measures. A feat accomplished only by consciously choosing to betray hard-earned trust.

  Pride in his work was a fault Antone hid from no one, but few were privy to intimate layers of his persona, driving him to burn it at both ends, better than Janison. Where Stalling provided Antone with a life changing opportunity, Janison provided him with the guidance to realize it fully. Janison was the person Antone turned to when his pride flamed his competitive drive and threatened to consume the creative divinity within. Janison had taught Antone how to trust in God, how to give over that which he had no control. It was Janison who had showed him how to find love in everything, no matter how ugly the package.

  Still unsettled, he kept his mind’s eye transfixed on the trees within the forest, incapable of discerning the growth of one conifer branch from the other. The allusive vista always had a way of reminding Antone of how far he had traveled from home, how much he had changed in so little time. He retraced all the little miracles that had led him to this moment, and found strength in the fact that it was his decisions at those crucial junctures that had created his current reality, not Janison.

  Recharged by the thought, Antone discarded his thoughts of vengeance and went back to channeling his energy toward what he could control.

  With Janison out of the equation—at a time when he was needed most—Antone would have to pick up the slack. In order to do that, he had to educate himself in Janison's fields of expertise as best as possible in what time remained. With a determined sigh, he put his visor back on and restarted the entrainment program from where he had left off, doing his best to relax his body and open his mind in order to consume as much information as both would allow.

  Wasteful thoughts soon dispersed, systematically removed from his mind as the familiar pressure mounted behind his optic nerves. Brainwaves settled between the alpha-theta stages, his synaptic connections primed and orchestrated to increase focus of the right hemisphere while speeding up and stimulating the left, he once again started the accelerated process of learning and compartmentalizing the data and basic protocols of quantum cryptography streaming across his visor.

  Five minutes into the arduous session, Nancy's voice cut over. "Sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to update you on any new developments."

  He paused, more grateful for the distraction then he cared to admit. "No worries. What is it?"

  "A representative from Archbishop Clortison's cabinet is insisting he meet with Stalling."

  "Who is the representative?"

  "Cardinal Thortizan."

  Stalling had brought Antone up to speed on his brief meeting with Clortison earlier that afternoon on their way back to the office from the lab, understating the outcome when he said, "Things were left incomplete." No doubt about it, Thortizan smelled blood in the water.

  "Tell 'em the usual, he's currently occupied and will get back to them according to priority."

  "Give me some credit Antone, I've told them that a half a dozen times since Stalling left them the hanging," she said, pausing for a second before adding, "I think you will want to see today's mass service broadcast."

  What has got her so rattled? Capable of making decisions at the highest altitudes, only the big picture issues made it past Stalling's golden gate keeper.

  On impulse, Antone switched to the satellite surveillance feed of the campus. Pedestrian traffic across the central park had trickled down to a few dozen people as most had started to clear out for the weekend. He switched his view to the surveillance cameras within each of the facilities and after quick survey of the three dozen buildings, concluded the same. The forty-acre campus would be empty in a few hours.

  He panned out for a broader view of the campus, nestled at the edge of the large island's secluded rainforest. Antone followed the main and only magnarail leading to and from the campus as it wound down the mountain for several miles then fed into the primary bypass surrounding the coastal city of Gestrafa: home to the forty thousand employees and their families stationed at Alterian headquarters. Antone did a quick survey of the gridded street map, moving from the suburban developments skirting the bypass to the downtown area running parallel to the city's cliffed coastline. All looked peaceful as patrons began to fill the plentiful cafes, restaurants and theaters. It seemed to be business as usual in their little utopian corner of the world.

  "What's the problem?" he finally replied.

  "See for yourself," she said as the left quadrant of his view screen blinked with the link.

  As was
the case with all the Church's broadcasts, the setting was in the historic temple of Deltoria. Clortison sat in his ornate cathedra, dressed in his vestments reserved for formal occasions, flanked by his cabinet in similar attire. Antone fast-forwarded through the forty-five minute liturgical dog and pony show while wondering what rites had to take place before the Archbishop took his almighty crap each day. He finally stopped as Clortison began his sermon to the thousands sitting in the pews before him and the millions watching from their telipads around the world.

  "The time to rejoice is now, for God and his prophet have bestowed a new age upon his people! The time is upon us where the mysteries of life will soon be revealed to all," Clortison began, the profound statement generating a frenzied mumble within the congregation before silencing with the raised palm of his right hand.

  "Unfortunately, the temptation to answer these mysteries without the divine guidance of his almighty chosen persists. Throughout history, we have found ourselves immersed in a world that would set your beloved Church of Salvation aside in the name of human freedom and autonomy. This mentality contradicts the core message of our one and only Savior and completely counters our holy mission.

  "Faith teaches us that we are God's creatures endowed with eternal life. We, God's chosen leaders, desire a culture of life, not death."

  Antone fought the temptation to hit "delete" as Clortison’s theatrical expression washed over both physical and virtual congregation. Patience Antone, they will know the true meaning of 'culture of life' soon enough.

  "But there are those who oppose our divine leadership. Those who would tell you God's ordained society does not apply to today's modern era; that you have the right to choose a path counter to the one chosen by your creator. Is this what our species considers progress? Is the eternal damnation of millions of souls the next step in our spiritual evolution? This is regression, not conversion to belonging fully to God. Nay, it is a consecration with the Evil One himself!"

  This sermon has got a sharper edge compared to the defensive positions of the past. Janison's betrayal was a potential momentum shifter and so far, the C.O.S was leveraging it just right.

  "We, the Church of your eternal Salvation, implore all of its followers to change the mind and heart and embrace the true freedom bestowed by the gospel of our one and only beloved Savior. Presently, I read to you from the book of Leviatus, chapter 3, verses 1-5: ‘And I will return unto you. My return marks the dawn of a new age, ushered in by God's chosen. This golden age will forever end man's ignorance. Boldly embark on this new journey, confident all false direction will be revealed. Beware of the false prophets, those among you who choose to advance man's agenda over that of God.’"

  "Search your hearts and pray for the peaceful deliverance of our destined golden age. Pray the almighty channels his will through your beloved Church and reveals the false prophets amongst us. Until we commune again, I will devote body and soul to receive the Lord's holy message. Praise be to Leviatus."

  Antone closed the video in disgust. All attempts to date by the Church to portray Stalling as the bad person had failed miserably. In part because everything Stalling and A.E. had provided Antium over the past decade has been completely benevolent. It also helps when your adversary's response to each new initiative is both pathetic and predictable.

  Up to today, Stalling, helped in large part by Antone's conniving mind, had stayed three steps ahead of the C.O.S. They have taken it so hard on the chin over the past few years, at least publicly, that by the time they contrived their derogatory response to the latest "technological miracle" produced by A.E., a newer, better innovation was released to the public.

  Of course they resorted to what they did best, throwing their totalitarian weight around in attempt to make the problem go away. Stalling succeeded day one, scaling wall after wall of bureaucratic bullshit, by leveraging his in-depth knowledge of Drakarle’s quasi-capitalistic society, instilled and relatively unchanged for centuries. So long as he played by the rules, the C.O.S., up till now, had to do the same, rewrite the playbook threatened market instability that could result in a depression of epic proportions.

  Before the C.O.S. knew what hit them, there was no stopping the runaway train of Alterian Enterprises. They couldn't make laws to stop us because there was no precedent, nothing to compare. Did Janison provide them enough information to go forward with their hostile takeover? And what of the ultimate mission? A covert enterprise, if discovered, that would terrify in ways unimaginable before.

  "Contact us. Now!" the voice message attached to the file said. The simple message caused Antone to cringe, recognizing Cardinal Thortizan as the owner of the voice. He forwarded the link and message to Stalling and attached his own that said: "I'll deal with this."

  He synced back to Nancy. "Thank you Nancy. As usual, your judgment is spot on. Send the Cardinal a secure address and inform him Stalling will meet with him in five minutes."

  "Understood," Nancy replied.

  Antone took a deep breath and studied the double glass doors located in the middle of the room’s west wall. Behind those ebony tinted doors was the "Meditation Chamber". Used for many purposes, meditation was rarely one of them. Antone visualized the room he helped design, picturing Stalling as he sat in the recliner and applied the latest technological advancement produced by the project.

  It was coming up on an hour since Stalling entered the room and Antone figured it would be at least another half hour before he had completed his rendezvous with Janison. He would be exhausted by the effort when he was done and far from being capable or willing to deal with Thortizan for some time after.

  Until they discovered a solution to save Muzar, Antone conclude he had to do what he could to keep the C.O.S. from forcing their hand. As valiant as his crash course attempt to learn the science behind the project was, he knew it would do little to help the fast approaching emergency procedure. If anything, he would only get in the way. Taking on the front man role in negotiating with the C.O.S. was where he provided the most value. I can only hope Stalling will conclude the same.

  "The Cardinal has responded and is waiting for Stalling's arrival," Nancy reported.

  "Understood," Antone said before taking another deep breath. No time to dwell on Janison and no time to second guess your gut. This is what you do best, read and react. Keep the vision on the forefront and trust your instincts.

  Antone opened the address Nancy provided and materialized in the virtual room an instant later. In lieu of the mundane conference room normally reserved for meetings with the C.O.S., Nancy chose the virtual copy of Stalling's office.

  Nice touch.

  Located in the east corner, he sat in a contemporary leather couch facing Cardinal Thortizan sitting across from him in one of identical design. Thortizan was leaned back, his arms stretched across the back of the couch with his feet propped up on the glass coffee table placed between them. He appeared to be enjoying the virtual vista of the rainforest Antone was looking at in the real world only moments before.

  He pulled his attention away from the scenic view upon Antone's arrival but remained in the same, casual position. At the site of Antone, a wave of disgust beyond imitation washed across his face and long body.

  "What business do you have here Ecifrican scum? Don't you know there's no trash to be taken out in the virtual world?" Thortizan savored the insult with an evil chuckle. Putting feet to the floor, placing elbows on knees and intersecting manicured fingers, he leaned across the table and menacingly pointed his index fingers at Antone's crooked nose. "If your master has any sense, his ass had better materialize in your place in the next few seconds or a bad situation will get much, much worse."

  Antone stared into the others eyes, allowing the silence to fill the room, enjoying the unexpected but welcome boost to his optimism that Thortizan's greeting produced. After a decade of battling his counterpart behind the scenes, he truly could not have been more pleased with the start of their first 'in person' enco
unter.

  Granted, Antone was leveraging his technological advantage to read the man's emotional aura in order to decipher the true meaning behind Thortizan's words and body language. The virtual tool reflected an internal confidence consistent with the outward. The man's prejudice toward the Ecifrican race meshed seamlessly into the very fiber of Thortizan's being. All and all, the cocksure bigot on the outside mirrored a more disturbing image on the inside.

  It was respect for Antone as an adversary, revealed by his virtual talent, no matter how begrudged it may be, that filled Antone with satisfaction. Never did the man before him, Antone realized with pride, ever imagine an Ecifrican as more than an indentured servant. Antone relished his enemy's reluctantly bestowed validation a bit longer, prideful of his role in reducing the C.O.S. dynasty to what it was today.

  "Stalling Alterian has provided me the full authority to make decisions on his behalf both now and in the future," Antone lied. "He wishes to convey his utmost respect for you and your colleagues and his desire to find an amicable solution to our current conflict."

  Nothing like a little ass kissing to soften the delivery of bad news.

  Thortizan appeared to reflect on Antone's words as he leaned back into the couch in one fluid motion. Dressed in a stunning, argent colored, fitted silk suit—the ornate, jewel encrusted pentagon pinned like a badge to his thin lapel the only outward denotation of his station—his thin lips formed a cocky smirk as he intently studied Antone.

  Younger looking 'in person', Antone figured they were the same age, give or take a year. Thortizan was a prototypical Drakarlean: tall and lean with wide shoulders, thick, jet-black hair that curled in waves at the base of his neck, olive skinned with hazel-green eyes framed by high cheek bones and pointed chin. True to his order, he wore no facial hair but his five o'clock shadow outlined a rich beard.