Super World Two

by Lawrence Ambrose

  Nate chuckled. "Sounds like my old computer. In all honesty, I don't know anyone in this town and the guys in my department are all national security hardasses. I wouldn't mind getting some inside info on what it's like to work here. You'd be doing me a favor."

  Zach's smile held a slightly awkward edge. Had Nathan pushed too hard? Maybe the guy thought he was gay or something? But then Zach's smile relaxed and he nodded.

  "Not too surprising, working in the Homeland research program. What the hell. I don't know much scuttlebutt or really anything about the HSRP – our paths rarely cross – but I'd be happy to share what I do know over a couple beers."

  "I'd greatly appreciate that. What's a good place?" Nate was thankful he'd never frequented the local bars. No one was likely to recognize him.

  "The Denver Metropolis Grill is just a few blocks away. Excellent drinks and food in my experience."

  "Sounds great."

  GAINING ACCESS to Brian Loving was even more complicated than Jamie had expected. Watching from on high with her telescopic vision – hugging the edges of clouds one to two miles up – Jamie first noticed that cameras and microphones adorned his three-story thirty-five thousand square foot Las Vegas mansion and grounds; second, the phalanx of security people accompanying Brian whenever he left the fenced in mansion within the heavily patrolled gated community; third, another circle of observers enclosing his property and tagging along wherever he went. Jamie had only noticed them on the second night of casing his place, her eagle eyes spotting men with scopes in two adjacent homes. She assumed this extra layer of surveillance belonged to U.S. intelligence agencies.

  Jamie assumed that the government was utilizing every surveillance trick up its sleeve to learn whatever they could about the national security threat Brian Loving surely represented. Which meant that anyone who contacted Brian would be duly noted and probably recorded, photographed, and filed away in an ever-thickening report.

  Jamie was so focused on what was happening below that she didn't notice the drone approaching her until it was three or four football fields distant. As bad luck would have it, she'd drifted twenty or thirty meters out from the cloud she'd been hugging and would be in clear view of its cameras. She'd learned from the internet that Osprey drones – the most prevalent and powerful of the drones used for civilian surveillance – employed telescopic cameras that could read a license plate from over two miles away. Its video feed of her was already streaming back to its operator.

  Jamie turned the drone away and sent it whizzing off to the north. She had no idea where the video was stored and so had no chance to destroy the computers holding it. She could only hope that the people on the other end would dismiss her as an equipment glitch. How likely was it that some lady was hovering in the clouds and had the power to alter the course of an Osprey drone?

  Below, Brian Loving was emerging from the house, his long, blondish-brown hair cascading over a trim-fitting white dress shirt as he danced down the palatial front steps to an oval area bracketed off the black armored SUVs.

  The front gates opened and a shiny blue bus, escorted by two black SUVs, rolled into the oval area. The bus disgorged a line of people in white robes and cowls.

  Petitioners, Jamie thought. People who had been vetted by the Church of Last Days to enter his august presence and possibly gain entrance to the aliens' virtual heaven.

  When one of the petitioners appear to trip halfway to the church's front doors. Jamie zeroed in on her. She was sprawled on the asphalt, no sign of consciousness, her arms and legs splayed out as if trying for a snow angel on the blistering cement. One of the security men was speaking into his cell. Brian Loving broke from his security detail and stooped beside her. He might be a showman, Jamie thought, but this wasn't for show. She didn't doubt he genuinely cared about his flock.

  An ambulance siren started up in the distance. She spotted the ambulance across town racing down a highway in minimal traffic.

  An idea struck: I can get into that ambulance. The ambulance would gain her access to his grounds without her resorting to superpowers that might be recorded by cameras. Nothing else was clear, but the five or six minutes it would take the ambulance to reach Brian's church offered her some time to think of something.

  Thirty seconds went by before Jamie arrived at an impulsive plan and decided to go for it. What was the worst thing that could happen? The government could find out about me. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She had to make a move to contact Brian Loving.

  Jamie dived on the ambulance, slicing out a small circular section of the roof moments before plummeting through into the back of the vehicle. She dropped flat on her chest, seeing no sign that either of the paramedics in front had noticed her entrance. She guessed they were only minutes away from Brian Loving's compound.

  But when she raised her head a few inches her gaze locked with the driver staring at her in his rearview mirror.

  "Holy shit!" He tapped his partner. "We got company."

  "What?" The other man turned around, ogling her. "What the fuck?"

  "Hi," said Jamie, rising to her feet.

  The two men looked at each other in amazement, then back at her. The passenger paramedic gave his partner a hard nod to keep his eyes forward.

  "What are you doing back there?" he demanded. "How did you get back there?"

  Jamie shrugged. "I want to see Brian Loving."

  The two men traded grimaces and rolling eyes.

  "Should we drop her off somewhere?" the driver asked.

  "Nah. Let security deal with her when we get there. We need to stay on schedule." His gaze drifted to the roof and he did a double-take. "No way. There's a fucking hole in the roof!"

  "Are you kidding?" The driver glanced back, eyes widening. "Shit!" His disbelieving gaze settled on Jamie. "Did you do that?"

  "I dropped from a bridge."

  "What bridge?"

  Jamie shrugged.

  They were approaching the gated community. A man in a glass and steel checkpoint booth waved them through. The front gates of Brian Loving's estate were opening as they roared up. Jamie noted the palm trees ringing the property and made an instant's decision. When the two paramedics focused on the ring of security people ahead, she rose smoothly through the hole in the roof straight into the uppermost thatch of leaves of a palm tree they were passing under. She gazed at the security people by the house for signs of anyone spotting her, but no one appeared to have noticed her ascension.

  Jamie waited until the ambulance stopped by the fallen petitioner and all eyes were on the paramedics rolling out the mobile stretcher before launching to the next tree. And then the next – faster than an eye-blink. One last tree placed her within twenty meters of a second-story window. She gazed into the window, seeing what appeared to be a deserted bedroom, and down across the parking lot where the paramedics were wheeling a middle-aged woman toward the ambulance. Had they mentioned anything about the mystery lady who'd invaded their vehicle? A few of the security people were glancing around and at least one seemed to be speaking into an ear transceiver.

  As a second thought, Jamie drew the hole she'd made in the ambulance roof together. She lacked the skill to reconstitute or rearrange matter on a molecular level – both Terry Mayes and his father had been among the vanishingly few capable of that on her world – but she thought a patch of mottled, distorted metal posed a far less disturbing puzzle than the hole.

  The ambulance driver motioned a pair of security men along with him into the ambulance bay, pointing to the roof. His pointing hand drooped to half-mast and he shook his head in helpless wonderment while the security dudes shrugged and traded smirks.

  Another opportunity presented itself: the paramedics tugged off the stricken woman's robe – in order to better check her vitals, Jamie assumed. No one paid any attention as an apparent gust of wind carried the robe a few feet from the woman, and then a few feet more. Soon, with a further telekinetic boost, the robe hopped past the circle of
security people and took flight as though it had sprung to life. In a flash, it was in Jamie's hands.

  Jamie turned her attention to the nearby bedroom window, willing it into fine dust. A final check of the people on the ground – no one was looking her way – and she shot toward the window at high-powered rifle speed, stopping inside with a powerful whoosh of air that ruffled the sheets on the king-sized bed.

  Jamie pulled on the robe and checked herself out in the mirror. She drew the hood over her blond locks, smiling at her newly born Medieval self. Out in the hall, she readied her response to the inevitable challenge by security personnel: I took a wrong turn. Could you show me back to the others? She doubted that would satisfy anyone, but what could they do? She couldn't see them calling the police or working up a fuss about a confused petitioner. Worse case scenario, they'd escort her off the property.

  She strode down the hall, aware of the cameras on the walls but keeping her cowl drawn and her head down, playing the role of lost devotee. Less than a minute passed before two large men stepped into view moving briskly toward her, speaking in low tones into their earpieces.

  "Hello," Jamie greeted them. "I'm afraid I got lost."

  They stopped in front of her – a wide wall of business suits and muscle.

  "We'll need to see your pass, Miss," one of them said, extending a hand.

  "Sorry. I must've misplaced it."

  One of the men waved a chip detector at her.

  "No PLED detected." They exchanged significant looks. "What's your name?"

  Jamie thought of her friend from the Grand Forks Clinic, the compassionate nurse who'd overseen her radiation treatment. "Jeanie. Jeanie Price."

  "You'll need to come with us, Ms. Price."

  They moved to her sides. She went with them docilely.

  "Where are we going?" Jamie asked. "I would like to speak with Brian Loving."

  "You and a hundred million other people. We're taking you to a safe place for a nice chat. Some people are curious how you got in here, who you are, and what you're doing here."

  Jamie had no plans other than to continue giving non-replies and to insist on seeing Brian. She wasn't sure how they'd respond, but she wouldn't take any forceful action unless they called in the authorities. She hoped they wouldn't take it that far.

  She was ushered into a room at the opposite end of the mansion. Judging from the maze of computers and screens displaying every nook and cranny of the grounds and the house itself, Jamie guessed this was the control room. One man leaned over a woman searching through a collage of images at her computer station. He straightened up when Jamie was brought in. A moderate-sized but fit-looking man in casual dress, he motioned her to a table and chairs next to a fridge in the corner. He converged with Jamie and her escorts there.

  "I'm Kyle Wilson, director of security here. I understand you're not chipped and lack the wrist identification of our petitioners."

  "I'm against chipping."

  "You're not alone. Is that why you're here? To talk to Mr. Loving about the rebellion?"

  Jamie strategically held her tongue. There was a rebellion? She hadn't seen anything in the mainstream news about that.

  "You entered the property inside the ambulance?" When she didn't answer, he added: "The theory is that Petitioner June Dearborn's collapse was staged to bring in the ambulance with you inside. You're a spokesperson for the rebels."

  "What did the ambulance drivers say?"

  "That you'd popped in through the roof." He smiled. "Through an imaginary hole."

  Jamie couldn't stop a small smile herself. His theory made more sense than the truth. She liked the idea that there were rebels.

  "We believe the paramedics were complicit," he said. "But we're not sure how you got past security into the house."

  "If you want answers, I'll give them to Brian Loving."

  "Do you intend to harm Mr. Loving?" Kyle Wilson was smiling pleasantly, but his eyes probed hers with cool menace.

  "No," said Jamie. "I just want to talk to him."

  "About what? He has told your people repeatedly that he has no interest in fomenting a revolution, that his sole concern is with the next world, not this one."

  "That's part of what I want to talk to him about."

  "Perhaps we should turn you over to the police? Let them question you about why you're not wearing a personal location device?"

  Jamie suspected he was bluffing, but if he wasn't, there was no way she'd allow herself to be taken in.

  "Or you can allow us to remove you from the premises discreetly. Wouldn't that be better? Next time, however, we will notify the authorities. As Brian has told you more than once, we're not interested in joining a rebellion."

  "This isn't about joining a rebellion." Jamie searched her mind desperately for something she might say to get through to him – or Brian. She could, of course, force her way in to see him, but that would open up a whole other can of worms. "Why don't you give him a message now? If he still refuses to see me, no problem, I'll go with you."

  "What message?"

  "Gabrielle."

  "That's it?"

  "That's it."

  After a long moment of skeptical appraisal, he let out a breath. "All right." He motioned to the pair of security men who'd brought her in. "Hang tight here for a bit. Help yourself to the coffee."

  The two large men stood dutifully nearby. Jamie decided to take the security director up on his offer. The coffee was scalding, but that did nothing to diminish its taste for her.

  Kyle Wilson returned five minutes later.

  "You're in," he said. "Mr. Loving will see you."

  They escorted her up to the third floor and a large open room stuffed with shelves of books like the wing of a university library. Brian stood with his back to them gazing out a cathedral-sized window, the sunlight creating a halo effect around his slim but well-proportioned body.

  He turned to face her, smiling in surprise and pleasure, the same look he'd given her when they'd first met in the Oakland Coliseum. A look that made her want to straighten up and fuss with her hair now, just as it had then. He made a classic handsome Jesus with his sculpted beard, fine features, and shiny white teeth. But she knew his desires were not nearly so pure.

  He walked over and held out his hand.

  "I'm Brian Loving," he said.

  "Jamie."

  "Nice to meet you, Jamie." He motioned her with him to a table near the window he'd been gazing out. "Give us some privacy, Kyle."

  "Brian, we know nothing about her. She could be a threat. I'd prefer to stay close."

  "I'll take my chances. Watch me on camera if you want."

  "I'd prefer no audio," Jamie put in. "I don't want what I say to you to be recorded."

  "Fair enough. You heard her, Kyle. No recordings."

  "Yes, sir."

  The three men retreated. Jamie sat facing Brian across the small round table.

  "My men are puzzled about how you got in here," he said.

  "I have some special skills."

  "Is one of them reading another person's dreams?"

  "You're talking about Gabrielle?"

  "What do you know about her?"

  "She's the one giving you your instructions, isn't she?"

  "You mean giving me the word of my Father?"

  "No, I don't mean that."

  Brian's smile assumed a puzzled edge. "What do you mean?"

  Jamie thought about what she was trying to do here. Her improvisation had started a roller coaster ride without a clear destination. Was her goal now to convince Brian that his messages were from an alien rather than God? It had taken a concerted team effort to break through his stubborn skull on her world. What chance would she have now?

  No, her purpose here and now was information-gathering. But exactly what information did she want to gather?

  "Gabrielle is telling you to offer people a gateway to heaven?"

  "Yes. I should say, she was. She was the first messenge
r of the Father. Lately, another of His angels has been delivering His messages."

  Jamie felt a cold wind pass through her. "Another angel?"

  "Yes."

  "Does she or he have a name?"

  "A he. Michael. But you didn't answer how you knew about Gabrielle. I never mentioned her to the public."

  "I..." Jamie hadn't thought about how she'd answer that. "I met her in a...dream. Isn't that when you talked to her? When you talk to, um, Michael?"

  "Yes. Though they speak for our Father."

  "How do you know that?"

  "By His works." Brian smiled at her. "People do go to Heaven through His gateway. I've seen it with my own eyes. Though of course the authorities don't believe me."

  "They think the people are simply leaving the surveillance grid. Joining the ranks of rebels and terrorists."

  "Yes." Brian smiled sadly. "They just can't accept the truth, even when it is right in front of them."

  "It's not really right in front of them. That would require showing them this gateway."

  "I may only show the gateway to the righteous." Brian studied her. "Are you a disciple, Jeannie? You must be, if Gabrielle appeared to you. And yet...you don't seem to be a believer."

  "I believe In the gateway, yes."

  "Not in the divine message itself?"

  "There is no divine message, Brian." She hadn't planned to take it this far, but telling him the truth suddenly felt irresistible. "And your gateway is just a piece of extremely advanced technology, not a product of any higher power."

  He stared at her in bemused disbelief. "You're the first I've heard say that. People either say it's nonsense or that it's a pathway to God – or a seditious terrorist plot."

  "What do Gabrielle and Michael tell you about the future of this planet?"

  "That it faces destruction as a product of its own evil ways."

  "Who's doing the destruction?"

  "We're doing it to ourselves! Haven't you noticed the darkness and tyranny the world is descending into, both here and abroad? Great Britain maintains curfews and martial law and has just introduced ten year prison sentences for spreading conspiracy theories questioning the imminent threat of Islamic terrorists. Possession of an unlicensed firearm gets you twenty years to life in Japan. In China questioning the state is a death sentence! We're not far behind that here. Some people have suggested that not being chipped should deprive you of citizenship and make you an 'enemy combatant' – which eliminates your right to a fair trial. President Tomlinson recently asked Congress to make protest on any public property a felony."