by Shawn Davis
She was disappointed the screen didn’t show a picture of a large smoking crater in the center of New Washington. She used the remote control to turn up the volume. The newscaster was talking about the stock market. She switched on the desk’s intercom.
“Connelly, you there?” she asked.
“Sure, Jane, I’m here. Where have you been?” Rick asked.
“I fell asleep in my office.”
“Maybe if you slept at night, like everybody else, that wouldn’t happen.”
“Thanks for the advice, dad. What’s going on? What does the news say?” Jane asked.
“Nothing,” Rick replied.
“What do you mean ‘nothing’?”
“That’s what I said. There’s nothing on the news about the White House,” Connelly said.
“Do you think the government could have suppressed the bombing from the public?” Campion asked.
“I don’t see how they could. There’s bound to be someone in the city viewing the explosion and calling a news station.”
“This could be bad,” Jane commented.
“Very,” Connelly agreed.
“I’m coming back to headquarters.”
“Good. We need to talk.”
“Right,” Campion said, switching off the intercom.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her forefingers. If this mission failed, people in her organization might lose hope. Once hope was gone, everything deteriorated.
Jane glanced at the 3D television. The image of a gigantic roaring dinosaur filled the screen and switched to a Casino shootout, where two groups of suited men were firing old-fashioned machine guns at each other from behind overturned blackjack tables and slot machines. The image became a laser gun shootout in a futuristic space station and ended with a woman having a sword fight with an ancient armored knight. As she expected, it was a commercial for the government’s high-tech theme park, Virtual-world.
Campion felt a cold chill prickling up the small hairs on the back of her neck, as she suddenly had an inspiration. Virtual-world was on the same island as New Washington. Except for the wall separating them, they were practically touching each other.
Maybe there’s a way to get into the city from Virtual-world?
They had discussed the idea before and it had always been shot down for being impossible. For some unfathomable reason, she now thought that Virtual-world was the key.
Campion switched on her desk computer and logged on to the Internet, searching for the Virtual-world web site. She didn’t have to look for long. A gaudy, full-screen advertisement for the government’s high-tech theme park appeared on the monitor. She entered the Virtual-world site and explored it with wide-eyed fascination.
Fantastic images of ordinary people doing battle with extraordinary robotic opponents filled the screen. They were real pictures taken inside the Powerdrome; Virtual-world’s largest and most famous attraction. The people in the pictures were real tourists who had paid money to go to Virtual-world in order to experience the thrill of a lifetime. The advanced robotics of the Powerdrome ensured no limit to the artificial enemies that could be thrown at the thrill-seekers.
This place is incredible. I can’t believe I’ve never been there. When this is all over, I might have to pay a visit.
Campion thought she would do pretty well against the Virtual-world robots.
Of course, why do I need to fight robots when there are plenty of real enemies to fight?
That was the real reason Campion hadn’t taken a day off to visit the high-tech theme park. With all the real missions that had to be completed, she didn’t have time to partake in fantasy challenges. Like many things in the late twenty-first century, Virtual-world was larger than life.
I mean, we’ve only had air-cars for what? Fifteen years? Virtual-world has only been around for the last ten years.
Campion remembered when they began construction of the high tech theme park. It was about fifteen years after they had put the finishing touches on the nation’s new capitol city.
During the year 2046, the capitol city’s Recreation Director or RD realized that half the island, which the city was built upon, was still unexploited. At that time, the recreation industry was booming. There were more rich people in society than ever before; rich people who needed entertainment.
Advanced robotic theme parks became the “in” thing for the nation’s wealthiest citizens. Robotics technology had reached a stage where people couldn’t differentiate between a real person and an android. This made the technology ideal to create fantasy environments where people with enough money could battle fantasy villains to the “death.” Or at least until the villains were re-programmed or repaired.
New Washington’s RD decided to utilize the unexploited portion of the island to build a superior robotics theme park that would blow all the other high tech parks out of the water. The Government Entrepreneurial Division or GED would provide the initial investment. That meant the GED would also control the profits, but there would be room for healthy salaries for the park’s Board of Directors with the RD as the chairwoman. So the RD teamed up with the GED to begin work on the greatest theme park in the world.
The Government Entrepreneurial Division consulted its investment contacts in the country’s most advanced robotics industries and formulated an idea to construct the premiere park on the planet. The robotics experts claimed that a significantly large investment by the GED would enable them to construct advanced humanoid robots that would interact with people in a complex, unprecedented way. They said the result would be so spectacular that people from all over the world would pay any amount of money just to visit the site for a few hours. The construction of Virtual-world began during August of 2046 and by October of 2048, it was completed.
The first robotic attractions were introduced in 2047. It began simply; people got into a boxing ring and swapped punches with realistic-looking robot fighters. Eventually, the theme park escalated into the sophisticated, inter-connected Powerdrome attraction where tourists could interact with creatures and characters in vast, complex robotic worlds.
Business was booming. By 2050, people were paying $5000 a day to visit. However, that kind of price couldn’t last forever and eventually the GED had to start running specials. The park eventually gave access to people other than the super-rich when they offered tickets to all those with Executive Status nationwide. Level Four Executives and higher were issued “Green Passes,” which allowed the holder to purchase a five hundred dollar-a-day family ticket to the park. The theme park also opened for international visitors of the same status.
Due to the terrorist bombings plaguing the mainland, security at the island theme park was extremely tight. The section of wall, which divided the capitol city from the theme park, had been relieved of its Automated Defense Systems after the defenses mistakenly vaporized some tourists in the park.
Guard towers manned by sharpshooters were built on the half-mile section of wall facing Virtual-world. The sharpshooters were armed with machine guns, heat-seeking rocket launchers, and high-powered rifles with scopes. There were no entrances to the capitol city from the theme park and officers were instructed to shoot anyone who got within fifty feet of the wall.
New Washington Harbor and the Ronald E. Frump Airport remained the only legitimate ways to access the capitol city. A perimeter of police gunboats surrounded the island so no unauthorized ships could dock. The only access to the theme park was a small fleet of ferryboats that went back and forth between the island and the mainland. Each boat had two squads of Federal Police Officers on board. Each visitor had to be cleared by Federal Security before they got on the boat and checked by Federal Security again when they reached the island. So far, they hadn’t had any trouble with terrorists.
********
Peter ran toward the distant human silhouette as it struggled to its feet. Arriving by the figure’s side, he realized it was his friend, Henry.
“I’m all
done, Peter. I’m all done,” Henry groaned as he leaned on his friend’s shoulder, favoring the leg that wasn’t injured.
“Henry, what happened to you?”
“As far as I can tell, they needed a fall guy for the assassination,” Henry said as his face contorted with pain.
“Who, Henry? Who needed a fall guy?”
“Someone who doesn’t like Prince.”
Rayne glanced at his friend’s right hand and was shocked to see him carrying his handheld automatic pistol.
“Why are you holding that?” Peter asked, shocked.
“Forget it, Peter. I can’t get rid of it. They grafted it to my skin with a laser scalpel.”
Peter’s eyes widened when he saw the skin of Henry’s right hand melted into the grip of the gun. His mind reeled with terror.
“We have to get out of here, Henry!”
“Too late. Looks like the cavalry have arrived,” Henry said when he saw the flashing blue lights of police cruisers approaching on the horizon.
“Come on, Henry, let’s go!” Peter shouted as he led his friend toward the nearest alleyway.
Peter Rayne helped Henry Johnson walk by letting him lean on his shoulder. As they reached the alleyway, the police cruisers closed in.
“Get out of here, Peter. If they find you with me, they’ll kill you.”
“No, you’re coming with me, Henry. Let’s go,” Peter insisted as he forcibly led his friend down the alleyway. Henry pulled away, balancing on his good leg while leaning against the alley wall.
“They fired this gun at Prince before they grafted it to my hand. The bullets in Prince’s body are going to match the bullets in this gun. There’s no way out of it for me. You have to get out of here.”
“Hey, if you’re innocent-”
“You know the way the law works.”
Rayne was stunned into silence for a moment. He had heard of people being put away for life for crimes that didn’t involve violence.
“Go, Peter,” Henry said, turning so his other shoulder was leaning against the brick wall. He began hobbling toward the street.
“I’ll help you, Henry,” Peter said, returning to his friend’s side and helping him along to the sidewalk.
An anti-grav police cruiser pulled alongside the curb and a spotlight shined in their faces. A short way up the street other cruisers were doing the same to the former parade marchers and spectators.
“Put your hands on your heads and step into the street,” an amplified voice droned over the car’s loudspeaker.
“I really think you ought to go now, Peter,” Henry said, backing into the alley so he was shielded from the cruiser’s spotlight. Peter followed suit.
Henry aimed his gun around the corner at the cruiser and fired. Peter planted himself against the wall as he listened to bullets ricochet off the cruiser’s metal hull. Henry had to duck around the corner as a hail of bullets tore the pavement apart where he had been standing moments before. The automated police-issue M-60 turned the pavement beneath their feet into concrete shrapnel and put holes in the brick wall as if it was made out of cardboard. Henry turned to his friend once more.
“Go,” Henry said. “Someone has to make it out of here alive so people will know what really happened.”
Rayne hesitated, but he knew his friend was right.
“Okay, Henry,” he agreed, reluctantly. He turned and sprinted away as the cruiser opened up with a second barrage.
Rayne continued running even when he heard the M-60 cease firing and recognized the distinctive firing of his friend’s gun. He glanced back over his shoulder to see a group of armored Federal Police Officers wrestling Henry to the ground. He knew there was nothing he could do for his friend now, so he kept running. Glancing over his shoulder again. he saw police officers chasing him down the alleyway.
“Stop! Or we’ll shoot!” one of them shouted.
Rayne didn’t stop. He continued to run, turned the corner, and sprinted into an abandoned parking lot. He heard the pavement behind him being ripped apart by automatic gunfire as he turned another corner and darted toward a nearby back street.
Rayne spotted a manhole cover on the side of the road and knew it was his only chance. He bent down and tried to pry off the cover, but it wouldn’t budge. Bullets ricocheted all around him as he pushed until his fingers bled. Finally, the manhole cover slid aside and he plunged into the opening. He began a freefall into the city’s sewer system as metallic thunder echoed above him.
Chapter 8
The Sewers
Campion strained with exertion as she worked out in her private gym, muscles rippling as she lifted free weights above her chest. She finished her last set of bench-pressing, wiped her forehead with a towel, and picked up a television remote control. She switched on the 3D television hovering on anti-grav plates above the treadmills and switched on the ten o’clock news. The empty suit on the screen was blurting out the media’s typical positive spin on the economy.
“The Federal Reserve stated yesterday that there are signs the U.S. recession is easing, so they will be raising interest rates by one tenth of one percent,” the newscaster said.
The recession is easing? How is that possible with the unemployment rate still over 25%?
Campion switched off the TV and tried to focus on the problem at hand. According to her agents in the capitol city, the first part of the mission had gone off without a hitch. The operatives had checked into a hotel and the Senator’s clone had met with the President’s Chief of Staff at the White House early that evening.
That was the last anyone heard from them. Not to mention the White House was still standing. The planted explosives should have reduced it to a large black crater filled with charred rubble.
What could have gone wrong? Was our intelligence about the security at the White House wrong in some way?
According to the White House blueprints they stole, the only security station monitoring the Chief of Staff was located directly adjacent to the office behind a secret door. The agent should have been able to take out the two guards and plant the explosives in the station. She should have been able to leave the meeting undetected and escape the island with her bodyguard before the explosives detonated.
Something has gone wrong. The only explanation, aside from error on the part of the operative, is the White House has defenses we are not aware of.
Campion stood from the bench and walked over to the bicep-curling machine. She gripped the bar tightly and pulled the weights toward her, exhaling deeply.
This is a serious setback. If the capitol city continues to remain impervious to attack, the government can continue with its intimidating reputation of being invulnerable. If my organization destroys an important government monument like the White House, the population will see that the government is vulnerable, despite all its high-tech defenses and weaponry.
Campion lowered the weights and released the bar when she heard a knock at the gym door.
“It’s open,” she said.
The door opened and the Assistant Director of Operations, Rick Connelly, entered.
“I have some news, Jane. But you’re not going to like it,” he stated.
“Give it to me.”
“Our primary source in the capitol city overheard rumors through his spy network of a failed attack on the White House. Apparently, the island has a security system in place that we were unaware of,” Rick explained, as he remained standing by the doorway. “Of course, the government suppressed the information about the attack so it wouldn’t leak to the media. They stated that the Chief of Staff died of a heart attack in his office. However, that didn’t stop the bored White House security guards from talking about the attack during their off-duty hours. That’s when our source found out what happened.” Connelly paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “Apparently, our operative assassinated the Chief of Staff, eliminated the security guards in the room next door, and planted the explosives. The problem is that every high-rank
ing government official on the island is hooked up to a computer-monitored bio-scan device.”
“Bio-scan? What’s that?” Campion asked, raising her left eyebrow as she grabbed a towel and wiped sweat from her forehead.
“All high-level government officials and security personnel in the capitol city have small electronic monitoring devices implanted in their bodies that measure their vital functions; heartbeat, respiration, etc. If their vital functions are cut-off entirely, the bio-scan device sends an emergency signal to a special security station located in the command bunker beneath the city. The computer in the bunker pinpoints the location of the individual, who the bio-scan belongs to, from its unique signal. They know exactly who has been killed and where they are located. A quick radio call and the next thing you know, there’s a tactical security team en route to the place where the bio-scan alarm sounded.”
“Efficient system,” Campion commented, impressed. “If we assassinate one of them, they know when and where it happened. It’s ingenious. I expect nothing less from our opponents. However, I think I know a way around it.”
********
The sharp crack of exploding bullets faded to a hollow echo as Peter Rayne free-falled into the depths of the city sewer system. He splashed violently at the base of the sewers like a plummeting rock. If it wasn’t for the three-foot deep wastewater, he figured he would have been banged up pretty bad.
Rayne stood up, coughed out the slimy liquid that had entered through his nostrils, and pushed back his slime-soaked hair. Total blackness enveloped him. Not the least bit of natural light was visible. He tilted his head back, hoping to view a last glimpse of the world above. He strained his eyes upwards, trying to penetrate the dark pit he had fallen into. The manhole cover must have been slid back in place because the area was completely dark.
