David put the plugs back into his ears. Moments later, a pair of teaching assistants moved through the lecture hall, handing out thick packets of papers. David took one and handed the stack to Cain, who passed the remainder on to the next student. He scanned the materials and found David’s assessment to be accurate. He risked using a bit of Energy to shield his ears and focused on reviewing the printed materials.
He felt the vibrations in the floor of the lecture hall as the class session ended, and removed his own virtual earplugs as he began to pack his supplies away. He turned to David to offer thanks for the guidance on the professor along with a generic farewell. But David was already gone.
The remainder of the day passed without incident. Cain’s other courses were held in room-sized classrooms with far more interaction between teacher and pupils. Students groaned about the homework assignments due at the beginning of the next class, which puzzled Cain. He expected his homework from the six classes he’d attended during the day to take less than an hour to complete. Then again, he reminded himself, he had a few centuries of experience in focusing himself upon a task with such ferocity that he finished those tasks in what seemed an instant. It was one of the reasons he’d opted for a single occupancy dormitory room. A young adult would be startled and possibly frightened by his intensity. And he didn’t want them to have a chance to learn his most deeply held secrets.
Later that evening, with his assignments completed, Cain wandered around the small campus for an hour, watching the students as they mingled. Conversations ranged from current romantic interests, to complaints about professors and homework assignments, to speculation about the weekend’s football game. Cain realized he’d need to learn about the most popular sports in the area so that he could speak intelligently if engaged in conversation on those topics. He headed to the student union and bought a slice of pizza to take back to his room for dinner. After centuries of subsisting primarily on food prepared to maximize health and nutrition, he found the smell of the greasy, doughy concoction disgusting. When he reached his room, he locked the door behind him and stared at the pizza. After several moments spent steeling himself at the potential horrors the food might trigger in his body, he finally took a tentative bite. The mix of artificial substances and processed foodstuffs set off every manner of rejection system in his body, and it took a significant amount of self-control to avoid being sick. He fought through it; if he was to mingle at all, he’d need to be able to consume a common college food staple without gagging.
At five minutes until ten o’clock that night, his alarm sounded. It was time to restore his appearance to that of Adam for the evening’s activities. He repeated the process from earlier in the day, but needed no overlay of his birth image to recreate his original appearance. Though he’d never forget his true self, his abilities, or his mission on behalf of the Alliance, he’d need these few minutes each day to reset, just as he’d need time each morning to resume his role as the human and aging Cain Freeman, teenaged college student.
Adam activated his tablet computer and launched a special application that he’d built himself. The app set up a highly secure video chat room, impenetrable except for the few members of the Alliance with copies of the same app. The apps had a self-destruct feature; if the owner of the tablet failed to launch within a few minutes of the predefined meeting time, the app would delete itself and all traces of its existence. They could get the app back, but only if they returned to the Cavern to reimage their machines. Even Adam, the author of the app, couldn’t restore his app while Outside.
He launched a second app, one designed to produce a specialized form of white noise in the room. It acted as an impenetrable bit of soundproofing; even if Adam shouted, no one outside the cone of silence generated by the app could hear him.
Within moments, a checkerboard pattern of faces appeared on his screen. Hope. Eva and Aaron. Graham. Archibald and Ashley. Judith and Peter. All except Hope were in their current human world disguises, faces suggesting ages ranging from mid- to late-forties. All had connected for the Project 2030 status call, slated for this time once each week. Most of these calls were brief; they’d long since learned to dispense with idle chatter and focus only on mission-critical information and developments that needed to be shared with the group. All of them, save for Hope, had human appearances to maintain, and long periods spent in isolation talking into a tablet computer would raise suspicion.
“Good evening, everyone,” Adam began. “Cain Freeman’s first day of class was uneventful. He should be able to graduate without issue in three years or less, and be well-positioned to join Will Stark’s future enterprises on schedule.”
“We traveled through Pleasanton over the weekend,” Eva announced. “It is a very quiet place, with a small population and little industry to provide employment for the population. Aaron and I both made comments about wanting to live in such a quiet town in the future.”
“Frank completed his chauffeur training and is scheduled to take tests over the next two weeks,” Graham told the group, using the pseudonym provided by Will’s memories. Graham would one day serve as the driver who’d help uncover the horrors unleashed by the Assassin. “I should have plenty of experience developed over the next few years, and will be ready to work with the VanderPooles when the time arises.”
“We started another Internet company a few weeks ago, using the proceeds from selling our first technology company before the market crash in the year 2000,” Archibald said. “We suspect this one will provide the cash flow to enable us to buy an estate in Hope and Will’s future community.” He nodded at Ashley. “Ashley has started reading up on nanotechnology and is making noise about the important role for the devices in her vision of the future. We believe the investments and initial statements will position us well to start a nanotechnology research firm in a few years.” He smiled at Adam. “We’ll probably need someone to secure our intellectual property if you’re looking for work at that point.”
Adam laughed and nodded.
The group was efficient with their reports, and within five minutes they were done. Everything was going according to plan. So far. “Thank you, everyone. Eva, if you don’t mind, I’d like a private word with you.”
After a flurry of farewell messages, everyone signed off, and Aaron stepped away from the screen and outside the soundproofed cone of silence. The conversation would be private. “Any news on the girl?”
Eva nodded. “Yes. She was adopted by a couple living in Pleasanton. That is why I insisted we alter our route to go through the town. We did need to start making comments about Pleasanton as a possible future residence, and that is how I convinced Aaron to make the detour.”
Adam blinked. “You put her in Pleasanton?” He felt a lump form in his throat.
“We will all live there for a time, Adam. I will live there for years, giving me adequate means to check on her without raising suspicions. It is a small, sleepy town at the moment, one the Aliomenti would never consider checking. It was the ideal location for many reasons.”
Adam nodded, only now appreciating the foresight. “Did you… were you able to check on her? On the adoptive parents?”
“No. Traveling through a quaint town is not terribly suspicious; stopping to query the head of the orphanage there about the fate of a specific child would initiate curiosities we do not want aroused.”
Adam nodded. “Understood. Thanks, Eva.” He terminated the connection.
It was the pinnacle of frustration for him; after more than a decade of preserving her body through repeated cloning of organs, bones, and tissues, a time during which only her brain had remained unchanged, after that final breakthrough when he’d ensured her body would live and grow and develop… after all of that, he’d been forced to watch her leave. She’d grow up human, raised by human parents, away from the Alliance and away from him. He could only hope she’d have better luck with her adoptive parents than those that gave her life. Richard and Rosemary Stark h
adn’t set a high bar in that regard.
Adam drummed his fingers together, considering the idea that popped into his head. It was crazy. But he had to know. With Eva’s message, he’d struggle to sleep until he knew the little girl was in good hands.
He made his decision, and moved quickly before he changed his mind.
After donning a hooded sweatshirt to hide his Adam appearance, he left his room, allowing the door to close and lock behind him. The students in the dorm would think nothing of it; they’d think Cain had simply gone out to join one of the many late night parties taking place in dorms and houses around campus.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
The single-person invisible flying craft was floating between the canopies of two large trees outside the campus. Adam walked there at a brisk pace, hearing his footsteps first slap against the pavement, then crunch gravel, then whisper through the soft grass beneath him. He glanced around, testing first with his human eyes and ears, and then with his enhanced Energy senses, to ensure no one was nearby. Once he was certain he was alone, he teleported into the vessel.
The ship sensed his presence, activating the interior cabin lighting and intuitive flight control interface. A map showed his current position; Adam zoomed out to show a larger portion of the United States, slid the map to his left, and zoomed in on the tiny city of Pleasanton. He tapped on the screen twice, confirmed Pleasanton as his destination, and set the ship’s autopilot to move toward his destination at maximum velocity. Within moments, the craft was hurtling eastward at a speed well in excess of the sound barrier. Adam closed his eyes; the auto-pilot would give him the opportunity to take a short nap.
In what seemed like seconds, he was jarred awake by a beeping sound announcing his arrival at his destination. He caught his breath, sat up, and glanced at the screen. The map showed that he’d reached Pleasanton, and a few voice commands for the ship computer soon had the vessel hovering noiselessly over the orphanage. Below him, children slept, dreaming of being part of a family. Adam would need to get in, find the information he needed, and leave, all without drawing the attention of the children or the adults who cared for them.
Adam sighed. He had no choice. He’d need to risk using Energy.
Adam closed his eyes and pressed his sense of sight inside a floating, baseball-sized globe of Energy. The globe floated in front of him before exiting the craft. It was as if he was the one flying outside, dipping down through the cool night air before phasing noiselessly through the front door. The globe enabled Adam to traverse the first floor until he found a sign identifying the office for the orphanage. That was what he needed. He floated the vision globe into the office and scanned the room, getting a good mental picture of the layout despite the darkness. Satisfied, he recalled his Energy, then teleported directly into the room.
Adam allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, letting his mind clear so that every creak of the aging building didn’t set him on edge with the idea that someone was moving toward him. He glanced around. The office desk sat in the center of the room, and the walls were lined with filing cabinets. He glanced at the computer monitor and keyboard on the desk. That would be the fastest way to find the information he needed. A quick tap of the mouse revealed what he’d suspected. The machine was password protected. With a sigh, Adam glanced at the plethora of filing cabinets. He’d need to look through the paper files, which would both make noise he couldn’t afford and use time he couldn’t waste.
He lit a small Energy light and scanned the labels of the cabinets. He needed to find a list of recent adoptions. Eva hadn’t told him the name the girl had been given, nor had she supplied the names of her adoptive parents. He’d need at least one of those to be able to check in on her. Eva didn’t want to think her name; Aaron would hear the thought and become suspicious. He’d gotten the only clue to her identity and location he’d get. It would need to be enough.
He stepped toward the first set of filing cabinets. They were labeled alphabetically, which wouldn’t help Adam without a name. He continued scanning, hoping to identify cabinets with files on recently processed adoptees.
Adam looked up suddenly, his senses on alert. He slid the drawer closed, extinguished his Energy light, and phased into invisibility.
The door to the office opened with a startlingly loud creak. A woman’s hand reached inside and flipped on the light.
“Whoever you are, I have a gun!” The voice, spoken in barely more than a nervous whisper, echoed into the empty room. The weapon entered the room first, followed by a skittish woman in a thin gown and robe. Her light brown hair was wild and frizzy, and her eyes were wide with terror, as if she expected an attack at any moment.
When the attack failed to materialize, she stepped into the room, waving the gun back and forth at the shadows. Her eyes scanned the space, looking at closet doors and at the desk with the computer. She moved slowly, ripping open each of the three closet doors with the gun outstretched, and closing them as each space proved empty of intruders. She bent down to peer under the desk in a similar fashion, and found the space vacant. She stood back up and looked at the desk. Her eyes focused on the mouse, and she frowned. She pushed the mouse slightly, re-centering it atop the floral pattern mouse pad. Adam shook his head.
Finally convinced that she’d imagined the sounds of an intruder, the woman left the room, shutting the door behind her. Adam waited a moment, and as he’d expected, she burst back into the room a moment later, gun at the ready, expecting the intruder to have materialized after thinking themselves safe from further detection. But the woman still found nothing. Shaking her head, she flipped off the light, exited the room, and closed the door behind her.
Adam waited five minutes, using all of his senses to ensure that no one else would intrude. Finally convinced, he phased back into solid form and glanced at the room. His eyes moved back to the desk. If the adoption had been finalized recently, the paperwork might not yet be archived into one of the file cabinets along the wall. He moved to the desk and opened the single file drawer, finding only four folders inside.
The third one held his answers.
Her picture was there. She would physically have reached eighteen months of age, far larger than she’d been when he’d turned her over to Eva. But there was no denying the face, the eyes, and the sparkle the green eyes expressed even in a still photo. It was her.
He glanced down at the bottom of the paper, making a mental note of the address and names scrawled there. He put the papers back into the folder, taking care to ensure they were stacked evenly and stored in the precise middle of the folder, in line with the preferences he’d seen from the orphanage director moments earlier. He shut the drawer, extinguished his Energy light, and teleported back to the craft. Within seconds, the auto-pilot was transporting him toward the house a few miles away.
He appeared in front of the house for just an instant before phasing invisible. It was a simple ranch house, with a neatly trimmed lawn and a single, older model car parked in the driveway. He walked up the drive to the front door, glancing at the hand-carved wooden sign identifying the family inside.
Adams.
He smiled. The family’s surname seemed a positive omen.
He moved through the door into the house and glanced around. The home had only two bedrooms, and he found the girl asleep in the smaller room, nestled in her crib under a warm blanket. Her breathing was steady, rhythmical, and perfect. It was a beautiful sight to see. She was finally whole, able to live and grow. Unable to restrain himself even in his intangible state, Adam reached out to brush a hand across her cheek.
The little girl’s eyes opened, revealing the green he recognized from centuries of association with her older brother. She looked directly at him, though he was invisible and non-corporeal, and emitted a squeak.
He jumped back, noiselessly, startled that she’d been able to sense his presence. Had he frightened her?
Within seconds, Emily Adams was in the ro
om, followed closely by Paul. She picked up the little girl, and Adam couldn’t contain his joy. They were attentive parents, well attuned to her needs, and he could ask for nothing more. His work here was done.
As he moved silently out of the room, he could hear Emily comforting her new daughter. “Shh… it’s okay, sweetie. Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you. You’ll be fine, sweetie.
“Go back to sleep, Gena.”
VII
Protection
2016 A.D.
“This thing makes me look fat, doesn’t it?” Will Stark scowled as he spoke, but there was a slight hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Sir, I don’t think that’s something you should be concerned about,” Lance Maynard replied. “I’d also remind you that my job is ensuring that you remain alive and functioning. I consider winning fashion awards in celebrity gossip magazines a secondary concern.”
Will snorted and thumped his torso, feeling the thick padding of the bulletproof vest. It was the lightest weight, thinnest model Lance could find, and even so, Will felt almost claustrophobic with the vest on. He could already feel the sweat building inside his clothing, even here in his air-conditioned office. With a sigh, Will glanced at the giant of a man who led his security team. “Do you really think people will try to shoot me, Lance?”
Lance didn’t flinch. “It is my job to assume and prepare for the worst, sir, and recommend actions to counter all possible nefarious plans of others.” The man’s eyes were steady, calculating; even now, he was looking for threats to their safety. “I’ve never lost a client, Mr. Stark. I have no intention of breaking that streak with you.”
Will nodded. “I appreciate your concern for my well-being, Lance.” He shook his head. “I’d hoped to spend my twenty-first birthday doing something other than being fitted for a bullet-proof vest, though.”
“Happy birthday, Mr. Stark,” Lance replied. “I hope this gift is an unnecessary tool in reaching your next birthday, and many more after that.”
Preserving Will Page 9
