Dawn of Modern Man

by Nick Plastino

  President Hafferschaff’s war on weapons appeared to spark wide controversy in several regions of the world, including where Alceon was stationed, which was seen as a hub to Africa. The President, and her staff, knew the public outcry to the bill was mostly just the really loud weapons defense industry. Most people living in the Mediterranean region didn’t care. The Jungle Wars didn’t affect their lives in any meaningful way and the majority of people saw no direct benefit from the sale of weapons to these countries. But on the other hand, people like their sovereignty. They don’t like another government prohibiting their own industries. But, to reiterate, most people didn’t care, they couldn’t be bothered. They were just forced to be aware of the situation through paid advertisements, a seemingly unavoidable consequence of mass communication.

  The weapons industry was only large in terms of money, which gave them power. They also had an utter disregard for the Anti Weapons Personnel (the AWP), a covert squad of Special Forces tasked with the job of blocking weapons trade to the jungles of Africa.

  It didn’t take long once the law was enacted for conflict to arise. The weapons industry tried to call the Americans’ bluff. An Italian arms company, Final Meccanica, sent a shipment of assault weapons and armor towards the Ivory Coast. The cargo was seized while the ship was traveling across the Mediterranean. The AWP launched an air attack against the cargo ship and disabled the vessel. The Special Forces boarded the ship by dropping down from an advanced jet-copter type airplane. They also boarded the ship from the water by climbing the walls of the cargo ship from stealth boats. The crew never fired on the hovering plane. They were only given orders to attack people that boarded the ship. The Final Meccanica henchmen attacked once the Americans boarded the ship. It was a feeble attempt. In all, six lives were lost, three Special Forces and three defense contractors. The point is that a very famous picture was taken of the scurry between American soldiers and Italian arms dealers. The picture was a close up of two people, one of which was a pale crew member going ballistic. His eyes were light blue surrounded by red, with tiny pupils. He had a shiny shaved head and a murderous grin. The picture showed the lunatic with a knife gouging a soldier’s neck from behind. The soldier had a piercing look of fear in his eye, like he was looking into the sole of evil. Most importantly, the caption showed the difference between an American Soldier and an Italian weapons company henchman; one looked civilized, the other a maniac.

  The cargo was seized and Final Meccanica was put on trial in The Hague International Court. The issue was headline news. The lunatic with the knife was shot dead on the ship and the rest of the henchmen were taken into custody. The AWP was seen as a force to be reckoned with. The people of Italy wanted their government to act; they were open to ideas on how.

  Alceon Fudore saw the horrific photo. It became very clear which side was capable of prevailing with the right touch, thought Alceon. She knew, at the time, it was her chance to jump on a tangible piece of this political rhetoric and paint an ugly portrait of the weapons industry. Alceon needed to convey that the weapons industry was merciless and would stop at nothing to get rich by selling weapons to people that used them for murder and genocide. This picture had that power, Alceon thought. Look at the type of people that work in the weapons industry, blood thirsty, knife wheeling, trigger happy psychopaths.

  She printed out the picture and brought it to the Ambassador, Lucas Tar, and told him she needed funding to enact a media campaign that would destroy the opposition to the No Weapons Trading Act. The Ambassador granted her the funding. The campaign was a success. Public opinion in the Mediterranean eventually squashed their weapon industry by voting to outlaw the manufacture of weapons for trade. Alceon was promoted and started earning her reputation as somebody that gets stuff done.

  The terrorist attacks presented Alceon with what she thought could be a similar opportunity. She knew this from the moment it happened. She wasn’t too fond of the initial response from the UAN, but she knew it was necessary. The UAN, immediately after the terrorist attacks in Mogadishu and Islamabad, sent an official message over the airwaves. It was a pretty uniform statement designed to insure security to users. Alceon knew that playing defense was important, but offense wins. This was her chance to sway and sculpt public opinion. Capitalize on the tragedy. Alceon knew her time had come. She felt the history books would someday take note of the actions she would make. Alceon Fudore sometimes scared herself with her own thoughts, but she had her ways of handling it.

  Gazing out at the moonlit lake from the thick, wood trimmed windows of her quarters, Alceon Fudore felt a sense of urgency. The sun had gone down, campus was quiet. It didn’t feel like 8:30 pm on a Friday night. It felt like the world was shifting for Alceon. The time to act was now. Alceon decided to act, what was to become of it she didn’t know. She asked the Aseeka system, “Will you check if Doctor Celsus is available? I’d like to speak with him”

  The Aseeka system responded, “I will prompt him. Is the matter urgent?”

  “Yes, Doctor Celsus will understand.”

  Alceon Fudore worked hard to get to her position, and along the way she worked with a fair share of dumbasses. Adorable yes, but dumbasses. The kind of people that needed everything explaining to them. Alceon was tired of that. She was tired of people that didn’t think for themselves and it made her grateful for her position in life. Ms. Fudore was finally at a point in her career where she trusted the opinions of those around her, not necessarily below her, but she could trust the people close to her level. Brilliant people like Dr. James Celsus.

  Evidently they are also the kind of people that put their job first and have nothing better to do on a Friday night than worry about their job. Dr. James Celsus, the head doctor of the Black Team in Operation Honey Juice, responded through the loud speaker, “I was wondering how long I should give you. How are you doing, Ally?”

  Alceon and Dr. Celsus had a history that intertwined throughout their careers, although on separate paths they had similar desires. They were East Coasters enamored with government power and enchanted with D.C. from a young age. Their paths first crossed in a Government Society class at an Ivy League school, they were study buddies and, for a brief stint, a little more than just buddies. Their careers got in the way of all that a long time ago and now the only remnants of their past relationship showed itself in private when Dr. Celsus would call Alceon by her shortened name, Ally. Something about it comforted Alceon. It warmed her chest, brought up fond memories. As she paced through her quarters she spoke back through the intercom system, “Dr. Celsus,” it wasn’t like Alceon to play this game back with him, she wanted to keep order. “I’m fine. I’d like your opinion about a few things…” Alceon paused, thinking of the right way to ask.

  “Are you asking me to your quarters?” “James, damn it! Don’t turn this into…”

  “Just tell me I’m right. I mean our project is already facing a media circus. I’m surprised nobody has put the puzzle pieces into place as to the significance of North Mountain Academy yet. And this is the first sign I get from you something may be wrong. An intercom buzzing for my attention after the sun has gone down.”

  “Nothing is wrong. As usual you are misunderstanding me. We have an opportunity here. But you are right that I would like to see you in my quarters.”

  Dr. James Celsus lived in the Adirondack building as well. He had a slightly less endowed office, with only a partial view of the lake and full view of the mountains. He responded to Alecon’s request and said, “Give me a minute to gather my things. I’ve got some ideas about how to treat this situation.”

  Dr. Celsus rolled up his crisp white sleeves revealing thick, dark arm hair and reached for his medicine pouch. He popped a couple of small white pills and gulped them down with a sip of red wine, which was followed by a quick slurping noise as he wiped his lips clean with the back of his hand. He got up, tucked his shirt in and grabbed a file template from his desk, and walked out the automatic sliding do
or.

  Ms. Fudore was the kind of women that handled stress with a stiff drink. She filled a lowball glass with ice and poured a rich dark liquor from a crystal decanter. Her eyes drifted towards the glass as she brought it to her nose. She took a sip and bit down as she swallowed. The room was quiet. The only noise was the gentle jingle of the ice in her glass as she set it down on the dark wood table. The light above the door turned green.

  The doors slid open and Dr. Celsus walked through. He appeared to move quickly across the room. Each step with his small, dark leather shoes made a quiet echoing sound, which resonated from the tiled floor as he made his way towards Alceon’s sitting room.

  Alceon was smiling as they made eye contact, “Aww, what have you brought, doctor?” She bit her lower lip and took a sip from her glass.

  Dr. Celsus looked perplexed for a fraction of a second, something Alceon noticed. “Nice to see you too, Miss Fudore,” he said as he looked at how Alceon was dressed.

  The doctor’s apprehensive tone made Alceon raise her eyebrow.

  The doctor continued, “What I’ve brought is some ideas I’ve formulated about the best strategies to keep peoples’ fears at bay. We need to put this fire out and make sure…”

  Alceon interrupted, “Would you like a drink?”

  “What are you having?” The doctor’s body appeared to relax. He took a seat and seemed to recognize the type of meeting Miss Fudore wanted.

  “It’s an aged whiskey, does it matter?” “No, but yes I’ll take one.”

  The doctor noticed Alceon was wearing a dark, short sleeved form fitting blouse, the v-neck exposing the top of her breasts, and the doctor did not look away as she leaned down to pour his glass. The peep went seemingly unseen. As Alceon looked up their eyes met again.

  “Doctor, do you know why I called you here?”

  Dr. Celsus took a second, “I think so. It’s important to formulate a,” the doctor gestured quotations marks with his hands, “Get the People Calm Strategy.”

  Alceon walked around the table, which was mid thigh high, to reveal her blouse was actually a dress that ruffled out slightly below her mid-thigh. She sat at an angle so her legs did not cross in front of the doctor, but so that when she did cross her legs he could see the bottom of her thigh.

  The doctor continued, “Am I missing something here Ally, why the dress?”

  “Doctor, I’ve had a long day, should’ve known you would overthink this dress,” Alceon kept control of the doctor’s gaze.

  “Fine, but let me ask why you wearing a dress that makes you look stunning should not be brought up?” the doctor said.

  Alceon rolled her eyes and took a sip, “Doctor, I met with the Chancellor this evening, he wanted to keep me informed that we have his full support for reproduction research in the Cloud. That’s good for you. Second, the strategy to ensure safety and keep people calm about the attacks is not going to be enough. People are mad. I don’t think that many people are afraid.”

  The doctor didn’t skip a beat, “Well the campaign is working. We just need to expand it to ensure it keeps working. If we can maintain peace, reproduction research has a better chance of survival.”

  “Survival! It is inevitable. This is happening regardless. We don’t need to continue to twiddle our thumbs and not jump at an opportunity to gain substantial public support to ensure the US doesn’t have any inclination to change its position on the matter. We’re not trying to stay in the game, we’re going to win,” Alceon said. Clearly she was excited about this, the idea was developing.

  “Win?” Dr. Celsus asked with a sincere look of misunderstanding. “Yes damn it, win. We need to paint the problem as religion.” She

  had the idea, now it was time to develop the details, “I believe you’re aware that sixty-five percent of the opposition to the Cloud is faith based, the rest are on moral grounds but do not want to be associated with religion. Too much blood has been spilled over religion already. If we can persuade people to believe religion is holding back the next generation of people that will be the healthiest and smartest ever known, then we can ensure long term public support. And we will have made a major dent in the endless war of science versus religion.”

  “I like where you’re going with this,” the doctor said. He looked captivated, “But I’m just not sure it’s necessary. We don’t need to alienate people from the Cloud based on some belief. We need to promote the Cloud.”

  “We’re not going to ever get religious people on board, reproduction research in the Cloud, living inside a fucking computer. What type of religion is going to say that their god wants that?” Alceon said.

  “Well I imagine there already are religions forming in the Cloud,” Dr. Celsus said.

  “James, damn you. This is our chance – my chance to change the world and I’m not talking about some new age religion. I’m talking about the ones with power, the ones that sculpt the minds of billions.

  Not very many people get to situations in their career like this either, it’s a lot of work and I’m ready to take it on.” She paused and then started to sound more intimate, “We don’t have a lot of time left.”

  The doctor almost spilled his drink, “We?”

  “Soon, younger people will be filling our positions and we either move up in this world by accomplishing something or go home. I’m ready to move up. I hired you here because I know I can trust you and I wanted you to come along for the ride, reproduction in the Cloud. A corporation that grows people is going to be our baby, our project to see through,” Alceon said.

  The doctor smiled and said, “Our baby?” He scooted forward in his chair tightening his pants around his genitals, and finished his drink. “I still think about you, Ally.”

  Alceon stood up and leaned back against the table. She slowly slid one hand down her stomach towards the center of her thighs and said, “I think about you too. Why don’t you come over here and press that up against me?”

  The doctor didn’t hesitate. He stood up walked towards Alceon and grabbed her by her hips, thrusting himself towards her until he was pressed up against her. “Let’s do it. Bring down religion.”

  Alceon breathed in heavily grabbing the doctor’s behind and whispered in his ear, “I need you to bring everybody up to spec, including that Becky Carlyle girl.” Alceon leaned back on the table and wrapped her legs around the doctor.

  “I should ask why now, Ally, but I’m not going to,” the doctor said.

  “Sometimes a woman just knows when the time is right,” Alceon

  said as she unbuckled his pants. “This is the other reason I hired you on for this project. Please give me what I want, doctor.”

  C H A P T E R 8

  Parker peered down at his Compass and saw three seconds until the jump. Making a jump in the Cloud required rudimentary skill, it was as simple as typing in the appropriate address, time until jump, and then hitting execute. The sensation was the same as leaving the control station except this time he was sitting in a chair at a restaurant. It was completely normal to see a person in the Cloud vanish into thin air.

  Parker’s vision went blurry. He saw only white for what felt like a matter of seconds. The white shimmered into nothingness – then colors and brightness. Parker’s eyes adjusted and he could make out the entrance portal of the Academies Arena. The arena was technically a UAN property, the space was allotted for students from different academies to meet. It was called an arena, but more accurately it was a theater with one stage surrounded on all sides by various types of chairs and couches. Each school had their own section that went straight back from the stage. The stage itself was circular and, for beast fights, was surrounded by tall, thick glass walls. The stage was divided like a pie into fifteen different sections representing each school. North Mountain Academy’s color was maroon. Each sliver of the pie had a stage door from which the beasts would rise up when it came time to fight.

  Parker was at the top of the stairway to the bottom rung of the arena (the
only section that ever gets filled up for things like exhibition Beast Fights). The jump placed him in his own section. He walked down, scanning the lounging area for Cadmus. The Arena was usually dimly lit with most of the light source coming from the bright center stage. Everybody seemed to be drinking. Students’ voices came from all directions and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy.

  Parker spotted Cad sitting a few levels up from the stage. Cad was on the far end of a full couch that had a slender table in front of it covered in various drinks, probably all simulated alcoholic beverages. The best thing about being in the Cloud was the ability for self indulgence. There was no hangover from drinking, just the sensation. At the Arena, it was a self-serve station near the entrance to each row of seats that provided the ability to produce just about any kind of drink you wished, all free.

  Parker walked down the stairs towards Cad’s row and stopped by the drink station. He poured a large honey lager beer and made his way towards the group of people Cad was sitting with. Parker recognized several of the guys sitting there. There were a couple of guys from the North Mountain fraternity, but Parker couldn’t tell who the guy was that was sitting next to Cad. Parker realized there was no space on the couch and pushed the closest chair towards Cad.

  Each seating row of the arena was approximately the width of a small living room and had sitting furniture scattered about them. Some schools designed their section to have stadium style seating and some sections filled up like they should be selling tickets. North Mountain didn’t have nearly as many students as some of the other schools, it was a privilege to go there and even the seating at the stadium should be envied, that was the motto of the fraternity guys that designed the seating. The chair Parker was pushing across the maroon marbled ground had sturdy wooden feet, a plush pillow top with the North Mountain insignia embroidered on it and hefty armrests. The chair made a soft furniture moving sound as he pushed it towards Cad who finally looked over and noticed Parker.