The Dark Intercept

by Julia Keller

  “So you’re blaming this on my dad,” Violet said quickly. She was even angrier now. “You’re saying the Intercept was a good idea until he came along and misused it. Weaponized it.”

  “That is not what I’m saying.” He seemed exasperated. He looked around the room, as if searching for the words to make it clearer. “Look, Violet, I had no problem with how your father used my invention. It got Danny and me out of Old Earth. And it got me a beautiful new lab up here. I just want you to know that the Intercept was created to relieve pain—not to cause more of it for anybody. Or to control anyone. That was never my idea.”

  “Fine,” she said. She needed to hear more. “Whatever. So let’s skip ahead to the part where you switch identities. The part where the big lie begins.”

  He winced at the word lie, but he nodded and went on. “Once people realized the full import of what I was working on, I started getting threats. Every day. People didn’t like the idea that some computer program could mess with their heads, okay? There was a good chance I’d be attacked. So Danny suggested that we switch. Nobody knew us yet. Not as individuals—just as these two crazy brothers with a wacky lab. We were totally unknown. If we traded identities, and if somebody came after Kendall Mayhew, the skinny little inventor of the Intercept, they’d suddenly be facing this big, tough, strong guy. This guy who could take care of himself. Not some puny geek.”

  She stared at his arm, which was wiry but very hard and muscular.

  “I didn’t look like this back then,” he said, in response to her stare. “I’ve been a cop for two years now. I had to train.”

  She considered this. She made a circular motion with her index finger. Go on.

  “You know how the Intercept works,” he said. “The chips use signals from your brain—so they’re an absolute form of ID. You can’t fool them. So the only way we could pull it off was with the help of your mother.”

  Violet was quiet for a few seconds. “My mother.”

  “Yeah. We’d seen her working on Old Earth. Taking care of people. So we asked her to switch our chips. We explained about the Intercept. She hesitated, of course. But then she did it. She performed the surgery. And she did such a neat, careful job that no one on New Earth had any idea about what we’d done.”

  “But my father visited you in your lab. He met the person he thought was Kendall.”

  “I was always wearing goggles. And Danny wasn’t in the lab that day.”

  Violet stood up. She walked over to the window. It was a small one, with a curtain that didn’t fit quite right, and the view was ordinary: a parking lot. Beyond that, silver streets. Yet she stood there and looked out a long time, saying nothing.

  When she turned back around and spoke to him, her voice had lost a bit of its brittle edge.

  “She must have liked you,” she said. “A lot. My mother wouldn’t have done that—wouldn’t have broken the law—unless she liked you. And trusted you. And thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “She did. All those things—she did.”

  “Okay,” Violet said. She needed to change the subject. Thinking too much about her mother was distracting. It made her feel soft inside. And vulnerable. She needed to stay focused. “How did Danny die?”

  He nodded solemnly. He would have to talk about this, as difficult as it might be.

  “I always knew there was a flaw with the Intercept. Certain people seemed to be immune,” he said. “So I’d done some experiments to try to fix it. I recorded my notes about those experiments in a red notebook—the same notebook I’d used as I invented the Intercept, jotting down all the steps in the formula. I kept it hidden in my lab back on Old Earth. I had to hide it because if anybody else got hold of it, they would know how to get around the Intercept.

  “But once we got here, I realized it was crucial that I fix the flaw. Because somebody was bound to exploit it. So I worked secretly in my lab up here, late at night, after my shift.” He relaxed just a bit. His voice shed some of its intensity. “It’s funny—here I was, working as a cop all day when I wanted to be in the lab, and there was Danny, desperate to be a cop but stuck in a lab all day. Just because we switched our identities didn’t mean we were able to switch our passions.”

  He shook his head and went on. The smile vanished. “Anyway, I discovered that a substance called deckle—sold as a street drug—was responsible. The main chemical in it somehow blocked the Intercept. Created some kind of temporary shield. I needed to do a lot more tests. But I couldn’t tell anyone about any of this. The implications were just too monumental. It threatened everything that New Earth had become—safe and serene. So I had to keep sneaking to Old Earth to get deckle for my experiments.” He paused. “Danny wanted to help. He volunteered to take it, so that I could record the results. Make himself a sort of human guinea pig. I said no.”

  “He sneaked down to Old Earth on his own, didn’t he?”

  That sounded like the person she had known as Danny. The real one. The one who wanted to be a cop because he liked helping people.

  “Yeah,” he said. “And one night—a night when I didn’t know he’d gone down there again—somebody sold him a different drug. They were desperate for the money, and they just sold him whatever they had. And it was a much, much stronger substance. A deadly one. Danny didn’t know what he was taking. So my brother died in an alley on Old Earth. He died alone. He died trying to help me.”

  Violet heard his voice break. She went over to the couch. She stood close to him. She began stroking the back of his head. He put his arms around her waist. And he cried silently for his lost brother.

  For Danny.

  She didn’t know how much time passed. This wasn’t about time. When he had recovered, she put her hands on both sides of his head, gently tilting it up so that he was looking at her. She pushed a lock of dark hair from his forehead.

  “When Rez and I rescued you,” she said, “in that alley. You were searching for deckle?”

  “Yes—but really I was searching for answers. I wanted to ask Tin Man if he knew who sold Danny the tainted drug. I didn’t get a chance to, though. You and Rez intervened—and I’m damned lucky you did. Who knew he had a slab gun?” He shuddered. She felt that shudder and held his head closer to her body. It had been a close call. “I visited Tin Man in prison,” he said.

  “Really.” She considered telling him about the chip-jack. Was now the time? No. It would shift the balance of guilt back in her direction. After all, she had spied on him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Another one of my unauthorized trips.”

  “Did he tell you who sold to Danny?”

  “He didn’t know. But he confirmed what I thought about deckle—that it’s harmless. What he didn’t know—what only a few people know—is that it blocks the Intercept.” He shrugged. “Tin Man’s not a bad guy. I had to treat him like one, because I was in a hurry that day. But he’s like everybody else on Old Earth—just trying to take care of the people he loves.”

  “That’s true of New Earth, too,” Violet said. His sentence about taking care of loved ones had revealed something to her—not about him, but about her. “You know what? I need to go home now,” she said. “To my dad.” And she added one more thing, so that he would know she was on her way to forgiving him. “See you soon, Kendall.”

  * * *

  Ogden Crowley stood in his library. Massive bookshelves climbed from floor to ceiling on three sides of the room, the volumes spread across the shelves in a magnificent array of antiquated communication technology. This was his one indulgence: Old Earth books. He did his official work digitally, of course, but when it came to his personal reading, he preferred books. Real books. Not words on a lighted screen.

  He had just taken down one of his favorites—The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Browning. It was bound in dark brown leather. The title was stamped in gold leaf. Even through the thick, twisted scars on his hands, Ogden could feel the pebbly sumptuousness of the leather, a texture he loved.<
br />
  Night had fallen, and the pools of light from the table lamps looked like large gold coins arranged across the carpet.

  “Violet,” he said. There was a deep pleasure in his voice, prompted by the sight of her. “So glad you’re home.”

  “Hey, Dad. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. The sleep was good.”

  “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “Of course. But first you have to listen to something.”

  “Sure, Dad.”

  He put the thick book under one arm. Violet helped him get to his chair in the living room. She pulled over the ottoman so that she could sit in front of him while they talked.

  “Browning is one of my favorite poets,” he said. “He lived such a long, long time ago, back when there was still hope for the earth. Back when people believed in progress.” He opened the book and read aloud:

  But the best is when I glide from out them,

  Cross a step or two of dubious twilight,

  Come out on the other side, the novel

  Silent silver lights and darks undreamed of,

  Where I hush and bless myself with silence.

  “That’s beautiful, Dad,” Violet said. “The part about ‘darks undreamed of’—that reminds me of the Intercept.”

  “Yes,” he said. He closed the book but left it balanced on his knee, so that he could touch the rich leather binding. “Yes.”

  And then it was Violet’s turn. She told her father the story. She told him about Kendall and Danny Mayhew, and about what Lucretia Crowley had done for them.

  At first he seemed too shocked to speak. Then, in a faltering, faraway voice, he asked her to repeat some of the details. She did.

  “Lucretia switched their Intercept chips?” Ogden said. As chief executive, he had lobbied hard to make that a criminal offense. The penalty was life in prison.

  His wife had risked that for two strangers on Old Earth?

  “All I know, Dad,” Violet said, “is that Mom thought it was worth it. Whatever price she had to pay. She wanted Kendall and Danny to get to New Earth. She wanted them to be here. Here in this golden place—this place that you built, Dad. Not with your hands, but with your mind. With your emotions. Your passion.”

  Violet didn’t know how she knew all that, but she did. She knew it with as much certainty as she’d ever known anything. She could sense her mother’s presence right now, in this very room. It was as if her mother was speaking to her. Telling her what to say to her father, to make him understand.

  “Emotions aren’t bad things, Dad,” Violet said. She was feeling her way from sentence to sentence, guided by her mother’s spirit. “They’re powerful, yes. And they can hurt. But they can heal, too. And people can create things with them. Look at what you’ve created here—a whole new world. New Earth. A place where people don’t have to live in fear. Where they can live in peace. And love their families. And dream.” She paused, listening for her mother’s essence, waiting for the words to enable her to go on. “I think that’s what Mom was trying to tell us. Emotions aren’t things we should try to control. They can be messy and scary and overwhelming, but in the end—you have to let people feel what they feel. And be who they are. Because the only reason anybody ever tries to control somebody else’s emotions is because they’re afraid.

  “And that’s not you. You’re not afraid, Dad. I know you’re not. Mom wasn’t afraid, and you’re not afraid. And I’m not afraid anymore, either.”

  Her father had gone silent again. Violet looked over at him. She could not read his face.

  When he did speak, it was in a thin, choked-sounding whisper.

  “I was wrong. Wrong to bring the Intercept here. To have it installed. To use people’s emotions against them. Your mother didn’t want it. She knew. Somehow, even before I did it, she knew it wasn’t right.” He drew up his damaged right hand into a fist and placed the fist on his book. This time, though, the fist didn’t look menacing. It looked like he was sealing in the words. “I should have listened to her. But I didn’t. I was too stubborn. Even though I loved her—I didn’t listen.” He relaxed his hand again. “I think I was afraid of looking weak to her. Afraid that if I took her advice and walked away from the project, she might lose respect for me. Even though it was what she wanted.”

  Violet was aware of a great wave of love for her father. She’d never fully appreciated how vulnerable he must have felt around her mother, with his bad leg and his unsightly hands. She knew how much her parents loved each other—she had always felt it when they were together—but she’d never considered that her dad might have had to struggle to feel worthy of Lucretia.

  “It’s not too late,” Violet suddenly said. She didn’t know she was going to say that until she did.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can always shut off the Intercept. Close it down.”

  He seemed stunned by her proposal. “I couldn’t just—”

  “Why not?”

  Before he could answer, Violet’s console chimed. It was the special ring she and Shura used for emergencies, so Violet knew she had to take the call.

  When Violet touched the screen, Shura’s agitated voice filled the room. “I’m over at Protocol Hall with Rez,” she said, “and I’m uploading a feed to your console right now. You and your dad have to see what’s going on.”

  “Where?” Violet said.

  “Just outside the forest. The cops tracked down the rest of the Rebels. They’ve got them cornered. Okay—here comes the feed. Somebody’s got to stop this. It’s going to be a slaughter.”

  37

  The Last Stand

  The cops had arranged themselves across a long low hill at the edge of the trees, shields and slab guns at the ready. They formed an intimidating-looking blue line. At one end of it stood Chief Callahan. She had raised her right arm; she was ready to give the signal to attack.

  The Rebels were far fewer in number. They’d been chased out of their hiding place in the woods and now made a ragtag line of their own, on a hill just across from the cops. They had no shields and no slab guns. But they did not run.

  “You have one minute to surrender,” Callahan called out to the Rebels. “After that, we’re authorized to shoot to kill.”

  Several of the cops looked uneasy at that. Shoot to kill? That didn’t sound like their orders.

  From his seat in his living room, Ogden Crowley was fuming. As they watched the feed, Violet could feel his anger escalating.

  “She has no such authorization,” he declared.

  Her father snatched up his own console from the coffee table. He punched in a code.

  “Jefferson,” he said. Violet recognized the name of one of her father’s top aides. “What the hell is she doing?”

  “Unknown, sir.” Jefferson’s voice through the console sounded perplexed. “She’s not answering our messages. She brought her husband back into custody an hour ago and then she ordered an armed unit to join her at the forest. I think this is some kind of vengeance, sir. If I had to guess.”

  Ogden clicked off the call. He moved his jaw. Violet could tell he was weighing his options.

  “Callahan thinks she’s doing the right thing,” Violet said. “She wants to keep New Earth safe. Destroy the Rebels who threaten it. This is her duty.”

  Her father didn’t seem too interested in the chief’s motives.

  “Only one way to stop her,” he said grimly. He punched another code into his console. “Reznik, initiate the Intercept for Michelle Callahan. Immediately.”

  Ogden looked over at Violet.

  “Might be the last time I use the damned thing,” he explained. “Might as well go out with a bang.”

  Violet had another thought: While he was in an order-giving mood, maybe the timing was right.

  “There’s one more thing you might want to do,” she said. “When this is all over, I mean.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let everybody in. All the people on
Old Earth—just announce that you’re bringing every last one of them up here, Dad. Build a bunch of new pods. Reopen all the old portals.”

  “That would be a very hard thing to do,” he said. “We’d have to absorb all of those people, all at once—the logistics would be daunting. All the vetting. And we’d have to reconfigure every last—”

  “Come on, Dad. You’re telling me that the same brilliant minds that built New Earth couldn’t tweak things a bit to accommodate a few hundred thousand extra people? How about all that space between Franklinton and Mendeleev Crossing—didn’t you tell me those sectors were deliberately left empty to absorb future population growth?”

  “Yes. That’s right. But we don’t know what we’d be getting, Violet. The people on Old Earth—some of them are criminals. Thugs.”

  “Sure. There will definitely be a mix of good and bad people—just like here on New Earth. That’s the risk, Dad. And you’ve never minded taking a risk.”

  His face told her that he was seriously considering her proposal.

  It’s a start, Violet thought. I’ve planted the seed. And that’s enough for now. Morning would be here soon, bringing a new day. She’d be able to persuade him. She was sure of it.

  They returned their attention to Ogden’s console and the vivid scene it revealed: High on a hill overlooking the rugged green glory of the forest, the two sides tensed for battle.

  In the right-hand corner of the screen, however, another scene was being unveiled: Michelle Callahan’s Intercept feed. The one weapon that, no matter how tough she was, no matter how determined, would take her down.

  * * *

  Deep below the floor of Protocol Hall, the Intercept purred and ticked, reaching deep into a file marked CALLAHAN, M. M., Citizen No. 71184-17-WA-GHY21.5, selecting a memory and ramming it home.

  Four years ago:

  She’s on the streets of Old Earth. She and Paul are assigned to a dangerous neighborhood today. A wretched place, swarming with desperate people.

  There. Over there: that man.

  Paul gives chase, his boots smacking the torn pavement with a rhythmic crispness. He’s an excellent runner, fast and tireless.