New Alcatraz (Book 1): Dark Time

by Grant Pies

  She glanced at the debris covering the floor and jumped a little as birds fluttered in and out of the broken windows high above our heads. I shuffled my feet and came out from behind the pile of boxes. I faced Emery, and she looked at me. For the first time in my life I looked at my mother, and she drew her pistol from her holster and pointed it at the center of my chest.

  CHAPTER 74

  2069

  ASHTON, IDAHO

  Ellis followed Beckett back through the labs. The workers who left their stations to watch the dissection of the man in the glass room returned and milled about the labs, like ants building a home. Each of them completed their own tasks. Part of some larger puzzle. Beckett led Ellis through more labs until they reached a room that was surprisingly normal; part kitchen, part lounge, with chairs situated in circles around small tables.

  People in scrubs and lab coats sat on the chairs, while others worked at the countertop fixing food and drinks. In the corner, Emery, dressed in her Time Anomaly Agent uniform, sat and talked with someone that Ellis recognized as one of the nurses that was just in the glass operating room. As Beckett approached them, the nurse stood and left the table. Emery looked up at both of the men.

  “You look much better than last time I saw you,” Emery told Ellis. She stood from the table and nodded toward Beckett, and he returned the small gesture. Emery grabbed the cup of coffee that sat in front of her, and the three of them made their way out of the break room. Once back in the path of laboratories, they walked in the direction away from the orphanage, and toward the large room on the opposite end of the compound that housed the time travel device.

  “Dr. Adler believes they are on the verge of manipulating the cluster of cells that give away any dark time in our bodies,” Emery said. “This last round of tests will hopefully confirm his theories.” The three of them walked in an amorphous group. Sometimes single file. Sometimes shoulder to shoulder. They converged and spread apart to dodge any other scientist or lab technician wandering about. Every once in a while someone would nod or wave toward Beckett or Emery. They continued through the doors at the end of each lab, making their way to the very end of the facility.

  They finally reached the large room that housed the stage and towering pistons of the makeshift time machine. Seeing it for a second time, Ellis realized the differences between this machine and the one in the Ministry’s possession were even more striking. The Ministry’s machine was complete, with protective casings around all vital areas, whereas exposed wires hung from all parts of this machine. The stage at the Ministry’s compound was well constructed. Solid. And the stage in the orphanage sunk in the middle and snapped and popped under foot. The warehouse itself was different. In Denver, the warehouse was well lit and clean. Here, dust particles floated around Ellis and collected on every piece of equipment in the area.

  “We need to be up and running by the time Dr. Adler finishes his tests. We need to be able to safely travel immediately when he knows how to erase the dark time in our bodies. We need you to help us run the final tests on this machine before we actually send anyone in it.” Emery’s voice echoed off the walls and ceiling. As she spoke she pointed at Ellis who stood surprised. Until now he never considered what he could offer those at St. Anthony’s.

  “The Ministry completed what they needed to. They found a place in the future to house prisoners for the NACA, and in the process tested their nanobots on you.” Emery pointed at both Beckett and Ellis this time. They both instinctively scratched their arm at the thought of the thick cellular robots drifting through their veins.

  “Most importantly,” Emery stated. “The Ministry collected countless fragments of internet information out of thin air, and they snatched endless radio waves from the future. Again thanks to you guys.” Emery said as she pointed at Ellis and Beckett once again.

  “They had ten surveyors. Each of you pressed the button on your devices a total six times per trip. With roughly twenty jumps per surveyor that is about seven hundred and twenty presses of the button on those devices.” Emery made quick work of the math. “That is about one hundred and twenty hours of information that the Ministry has to piece together to tell the history of the next few thousand years.”

  “That doesn’t seem like much information to go on.” Ellis said. “That’s roughly five hours of information for each one hundred years.”

  “That is true,” Emery countered. “The radio waves are time sensitive. They only show what was being said at that exact time. But the devices captured other wireless signals. Those could contain countless terabytes of information about what happened decades ago. Wars, technologies, economic booms and busts. Whatever someone wrote about, uploaded or downloaded at that time was captured.” In the distance a loud bang rang out. It came from down the long hall of laboratories, from the main room in the orphanage. The three of them turned to look toward the noise. Nothing followed.

  “Regardless of how much or little information they have,” Beckett picked up where Emery left off. “They are the only ones with this information. And they will want to keep it that way. They will want to close off all access to the future.” Another muffled thud came from far away, and the ground quaked under their feet.

  Ellis looked around to gauge the reaction of Beckett and Emery, who stood still waiting for another noise or movement to give away what was happening. Neither of them said anything. Ellis’ heart fluttered in anticipation. A third noise pulsed through the corridor of labs and reached Ellis, shooting through his body. It was a noise he felt more than he heard.

  He watched Emery reach her hand down toward her holstered gun. She unlatched the strip of leather that locked the gun in place in the holster, but she didn’t take the gun out. A series of blows stretched through the orphanage. Each one grew louder than the last. As the sounds came closer to Ellis, he heard metal clanging on the ground. Glassware shattered and bounced on the floor. Another loud bang. Ellis heard the wood of each door that separated one laboratory from the next splinter and break.

  After each thud on the door, the sound of a flash grenade exploded. Another door cracked. Ellis heard the marching footsteps of intruders echo on the floor, crushing the shattered materials under their feet.

  The people on the other side of the door kicked the metal hinges and spent flash grenades out of their way. Ellis, Emery, and Beckett looked around. They saw only one way out of the large room. They were trapped in a room with the most damning evidence that the Ministry could catch a person with. All three of them backed away from the only door that was both their only exit and the intruders’ only entry.

  Another loud crash penetrated through the remaining laboratories, and they heard louder screams as the backs of guns smacked into human flesh, sounding like two wet slabs of meat colliding. Ellis made out muffled words that were repeated, and spoken through a black ski mask. He heard “get down” and “put your hands on your head.” The voices announced themselves as Technology Development Agents and Time Anomaly Agents. Gunfire rang through the laboratory until the group of people were directly on the other side of the door.

  He backed away. Beckett stood the closest to the door. Emery stood in between Ellis and Beckett. The shouts of the intruders were more audible now. The sound of a metal canister rattled on the other side of the door, and a loud pop rang out. Ellis flinched.

  The thud of a solid metal object smacked against the door. Beckett jumped at the loud noise, but Emery didn’t move. She rested her hand on the gun at her side, ready to draw and return fire on her fellow agents. Another loud bang hit the door.

  Splinters of wood sprayed onto Beckett, as the door knob flew inward toward the large stage in the center of the room, and the door fell off of two of the three hinges. Four men in ski masks with armor over their chest, thighs, and arms barged into the room. They had black helmets on their heads and thick padded fingerless gloves on their hands.

  In a split second, one of the agents tossed a metal grenade into the room, and a bu
rst of light lit the room up. Smoke filled the room and drifted into Ellis’ eyes and nose. He couldn’t see the agents, but he heard their feet fall hard onto the cement floor. He sensed them file into the room and surround the three of them. He heard the agents raise their rifles and pull the metal slide back. He heard the click of a bullet enter the chamber of the agents’ guns.

  The thick smoke began to clear. Emery knelt in front of Ellis. She was coughing from the smoke. Her gun was still holstered, but the strip of leather was unclasped. He reached for Emery, wrapped his hand under her arm, and helped her up. She leaned into him, and he held her firmly, hugging her from behind. She placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed to return the embrace.

  As the smoke cleared and the agents came into view, Ellis saw that they formed a single line between them and the door. Guns drawn. Before the smoke cleared, Ellis repositioned his hand, moving his arm up and wrapping it around Emery’s throat. He pulled her body in front of his and placed her between the agents and himself. Then as the last of the smoke drifted upward toward the high ceiling, he reached down her thigh and pulled her gun out of the holster. He held the cold metal in his hands and pointed it at the agents first. Then he pressed it against Emery’s head.

  CHAPTER 75

  2069

  ASHTON, IDAHO

  “Put the gun down!” the agents yelled through their ski masks. “Drop the weapon!” they screamed. Ellis alternated between pointing the gun at the four agents and then back to Emery. Beckett stood in disbelief, turning his head to follow wherever Ellis pointed the gun. He looked at Emery. Then he looked at the agents. Then back to Emery.

  One agent took two steps toward Beckett and rammed the end of his rifle into his stomach. Beckett doubled over, fell to his knees, and pressed his palms on the cement floor. Then the agent bashed his rifle into Beckett’s skull, and Beckett fell to the floor.

  “This bitch set us up!” Ellis screamed back at the agents. The man who just rendered Beckett unconscious returned the focus of his gun to Ellis. Ellis backed away from the agents and pulled Emery with him.

  “Let the hostage go,” one of the agents said in a slightly calmer voice.

  Behind the four agents, through the door behind them, a line of broken equipment was strewn across the laboratories. Every door that led to another laboratory was ripped from its hinges and laid on the ground. Tables were knocked onto their side. Microscopes were smashed on the ground. Refrigerator units that were filled with slices of brain, heart, and eyeballs were toppled over, and the contents spread across the floor.

  In the distance, most of the workers were on the ground, either dead or unconscious. Those that were not on the ground were ushered out of the labs and up the stairs of the orphanage by other Time Anomaly Agents and Technology Development Agents.

  “I’m gonna kill her!” Ellis screamed as he tightened his hold around Emery’s neck, mindful not to truly hurt her. Emery held onto his forearm as he squeezed. “She set us up!” he exclaimed. Down the hall, in the third or fourth lab from the orphanage, Ellis saw Dr. Adler lying on the ground. Blood flowed out of his head and his long gray hair was clumped to his skull.

  “Let her go or we will shoot you dead!” one of the agents responded.

  “Okay. Okay,” Ellis said, pretending to come to his senses. “I will let her go. Don’t shoot,” he said, releasing his grip around Emery’s neck and pushing her away from him. She fell into one of the agents. Ellis held his hands up, holding the gun loosely in his right hand.

  “Throw the gun away!” one of the agents yelled through his muffled mouth.

  Ellis lowered his right hand and tossed the gun aside. It clanked and echoed throughout the room. He looked at Emery. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her lip quivered. She stood behind the armed agents. Two of them approached Ellis with their guns still pointed squarely at his head. Just before they were within striking distance, Emery mouthed the words “I love you” to Ellis from behind the agents. Ellis nodded to her.

  Just before the agents rammed their rifle into his head. Just before his skull split opened, and blood oozed out. Before the agents restrained him, hauled him out of the orphanage, and read him his rights. Before he went to trial, and became the very first prisoner of the very prison he helped discover. Before he returned for a second time to the year 5065. Before all of that, Ellis looked into Emery’s eyes.

  He looked beyond the agents who approached him, and watched Emery say I love you to him. In response, he did the only thing that he knew would prove that he loved her. He did the only thing that he thought would keep her safe and free from prosecution. After she told Ellis that she loved him, Ellis said, “I should have killed you, you stupid bitch!” And then the agent slammed his rifle into Ellis’ head and everything went dark for a long time.

  UNIT 5987D V.

  FEDERATED NORTH AMERICA

  CASE NO. 2070FN99823

  (Defense’s Closing Argument)

  Counselor Powell: Thank you, your honor. Thank you, Prosecutor Klipton. Members of the jury, I also would like to thank you for your time and efforts here today. I know you have paid close attention to all of the details in this case, and you intend on weighing the evidence just as carefully as you would in a human’s trial.

  Mr. Klipton did a fine job of outlining the three charges that Whitman faces. He also did a fine job in helping you make some grand leaps in logic. He would like for you to make some key assumptions during your deliberations. First, he would like you to assume that the six android units that went missing from Wayfield Industries over the last three years were the exact same units that Whitman had in his possession. He assumes they are, and he would like you to assume they are too. But you are not here to assume. You are here to weigh the evidence that is presented to you.

  It is not my job to present a bill of sale or any type of receipt supporting our position that Whitman obtained these androids legally. It is the Federated Government’s job to produce evidence to the contrary. They have not produced a security video, a matching serial number, or any other forensic evidence that proves that the androids Whitman had were the same androids that went missing from Wayfield Industries.

  I would like to remind you that Whitman has been very forthcoming about his relationship with Pierson, his examination of the android units, and his experimentations on human DNA. He told us how much he cared for Pierson, and how much Pierson cared for him. He gave us a rare glimpse into a friendship between an android and its owner.

  Whitman showed us that humans can benefit from androids. Not just practical and economic benefits, but we can also gain emotional benefits from the company of androids. Pierson recognized this, and knew that Whitman could be so much more than a housekeeper or a mechanic. He could be a friend, companion, and caretaker.

  So Pierson nurtured his desire to learn, and trace his roots back to his human origin. He was Whitman’s strongest advocate in exploring new ideas. Pierson planted the seed of desire in Whitman’s mind to learn where he came from, and discover whose DNA was embedded in his body.

  The Federated Government likes to focus on the term ‘obsession.’ They want to portray Whitman’s desire to learn who he came from as an obsession. An obsession carries the undertone of derangement and despair. An obsession is the difference between a scientist and a mad scientist. A politician and a dictator. A priest and a cult leader. I ask you to look at Whitman, not as obsessed, but determined.

  There are many humans who, for one reason or another, never knew their biological parents. Some people were given up for adoption or taken away from their parents. Some people, myself included, had their parent’s die at a young age.

  It is not shocking to us that humans wish to learn about their biological parents in these circumstances. Where they came from. Who they came from. We talk to our relatives to find out more about our parents and grandparents. We hire private investigators to track down long lost family members, and we search the public archives for clues about our pas
t. These people are not obsessed. At the least we are curious and at the most we are determined.

  We strive to learn anything we can about our parents. What they looked like. Were they loved by others? Were they respected? Why did they leave? Was it out of fear? Or was it out of love of saving us from something worse than abandonment? Are we the way we are because of our parents? And most importantly would they be happy for us and proud of whom we have become? We feel that if we only knew who they truly were, we can somehow know who we truly are.

  Now take that curiosity and imagine someone was told their entire life that they had no parents. Not that the parents left, but that they never even existed. Imagine that an entire species was produced allegedly without biological parents.

  And then imagine that was not the case. Imagine that they had biological remnants of their creator. A DNA imprint inside of them that proved that they were more than machines pulled off of an assembly line.

  Imagine the determination they would have, that Whitman had, to find out more. Now imagine that you were friends with one of these people and you wanted to help them on their path to self-discovery. That is what Pierson did for Whitman. That is the type of friendship they had.

  Before my father died he gave me an important piece of advice. He told me that nothing could exist without something else dying first. Everything requires the energy and atoms of something else to live. Everything and everyone is recycled at some point. It is just a matter of how far out you stretch the timeline.

  All of us exist because of some sacrifice. And a natural consequence of that is that we will all sacrifice ourselves at some point for someone else. Sometimes that sacrifice is forced from us. Sometimes it is incidental. Sometimes it is a choice.

  The best sacrifice, in fact the only instance that is truly a sacrifice, is a sacrifice that you can choose for yourself. Pierson chose to sacrifice his life for Whitman’s experiment. Don’t take that away from him. Don’t strip Pierson of his choice after he is dead and can no longer defend himself.