by Gary Naiman
Lucinda’s eyelids snapped open. “Incredible.”
“Are you ill, 0021?”
Lucinda blinked at the amber eye.
“0021?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I must have been dreaming.”
The Meta’s amber eye flickered. “Was it unpleasant?”
Her face flushed. “I am told you are the Consortium’s most advanced robot.”
“I am.”
“Then you must know you are forbidden to ask that human question.”
The Meta stared at her.
“Gog?”
“Forgive me, 0021.” The Meta lifted one of its four arms and pointed at the raging sea. “We are here.”
Lucinda felt the sphere shudder from a lightning bolt and clap of thunder. She leaned forward and looked down at the flickering waves. “How high are we?”
“Two thousand feet and descending.”
She felt a second powerful shudder. “Shouldn’t we wait for the storm to pass?”
“It will only grow worse. A hurricane is closing on the Philippines. We will be safe once aboard the platform.”
The sphere lurched. “You’re sure of that?”
The Meta’s eye flickered. “I am committed to your safety, 0021. Nothing will happen to you.”
Lucinda took a nervous breath and looked down at the churning sea. Through the lightning, she could see a massive cargo ship straining against the storm’s thirty-foot waves. The “Generation Three” cargo carriers were the largest submersible cargo vessels ever built with their flat decks below the surface except during loading and unloading operations. This one was having a rough time holding its position against the fierce seas.
Lucinda peered at the glowing tube connecting the cargo ship to the Neptune platform. “That’s the loading tube?”
“Yes, 0021. They are loading the Manna.”
She watched a wave slam against the pulsing tube. “Why don’t they wait until the storm passes?”
“The hurricane will not pass until tomorrow, 0021. To wait means death to one million of your own.”
Lucinda stared at the glowing tube.
The sphere resisted the gale force wind while positioning itself above the platform. Lucinda strained forward, her eyes locked on the waves crashing against the silver platform. Through the lightning, she could see foam churning over the platform’s bridge.
She glanced at the Meta. “We should wait.”
Gog eased beside her. “I am at your side.”
Electrostatic warmth engulfed her. She thrashed at the wind and rain stinging her face. Her screams were drowned by the intense roar. She tried to turn away, but the wind was everywhere. In her panic she looked up and saw the sphere floating above her. She looked down at her exposed feet dangling in space. Below them, the platform rushed up at her.
She dropped on the pitching deck with the Meta floating beside her. Through the sheets of wind-whipped rain, she could see the cargo vessel fighting the churning waves. A bolt of lightning hissed overhead followed by a deafening thunderclap, and she saw the sixty-foot rogue wave rising above the platform.
Her eyes locked on the Meta. “I told you to wait!” She collapsed on the rainswept deck, her body curled in a ball, her hands clutching her head.
The Meta’s amber eye flashed brilliant blue. “I am at your side.” It turned to the breaking wave and unleashed a massive burst of blue plasma.
“We must proceed, 0021.”
Lucinda peered at the raging ocean. The wave was gone. She looked at the eye, which had returned to amber. “You did that?”
Gog backed away. “They await you, 0021. We must proceed.”
Lucinda pushed off the deck and stared at the woman emerging from the hatch at the far end of the rocking platform. Gog’s words echoed in her ears.
I am at your side.
CHAPTER 8
The Project Director
“Please hurry! The waves are breaking over the deck!”
Lucinda sloshed toward the woman gesturing to her from the opened hatch. The woman wore iridescent-copper. Her black hair streamed in the wind. Her black eyes were locked on Lucinda.
Lucinda reeled from a powerful blast of wind. She gripped a protruding handhold and braced herself against the surging foam.
The woman seized her arm and shoved her into the hatch.
“Go on! I’m right behind you!”
Lucinda scrambled through the circular opening and descended its ladder into infrared light.
The woman stepped on the ladder and paused, her black eyes glaring at the waves crashing over the glowing Manna tube and attached cargo vessel. The night sky flashed with unearthly light, illuminating the churning clouds. The hurricane was almost upon them.
The woman was about to close the hatch when she saw the amber eye peering at her from the deck. She smirked at the Meta and descended the ladder. A quick wave of her hand and the automated hatch sealed above her.
The woman pushed back her soaked black hair and extended her hand. “Sorry about the histrionics. It would be a shame to lose you to a hurricane. I’m Sandra Kenney. Wish we could have arranged a more pleasant arrival.”
Lucinda clasped her hand. “You’re the Project Director?”
Kenney smiled. “I hate titles, don’t you?”
Lucinda returned the smile. “I’m honored.”
Kenney eyed her. “You’re with Robotron?”
Lucinda nodded.
“Your fame precedes you, 0021.”
“Fame?”
Kenney shrugged. “You’re their best.”
Lucinda’s face reddened. “You flatter me, Director Kenney. May I call you that?”
Kenney shrugged. “Rank is not important here. We are merely scientists trying to contribute.”
Lucinda gave an affirming nod.
“Were you always with Robotron?”
Careful, she’s probing.
Lucinda nodded. “Like so many, I suffered the nuclear confrontation when a child and blessed the Consortium for challenging the nation-states. I owe my life to them and will go wherever I’m assigned.”
“But Robotron, we’re you always —” Kenney gripped the ladder as the platform shuddered from an immense wave.
Lucinda grasped the ladder. “That’s quite a storm.”
“Yes ... we should go below.” Kenney gestured toward the red-tinted wall behind Lucinda where a portal had opened.
Kenney was leading her guest through the portal when she paused. “They tell me you created the most advanced robot of our time.”
Lucinda shrugged. “I merely contributed to the effort. Many others were involved.”
“But you were the creator?”
“I contributed.”
“You must love your robots.”
“I respect them.”
“Then where is your robot?”
Lucinda froze. Gog! I left him out there!
“What’s wrong, 0021?”
Lucinda rushed past Kenney and clawed up the ladder.
“No... you can’t do that!”
Lucinda pressed against the hatch, but it wouldn’t open.
“0021!”
Lucinda’s heart pulsed. She jammed her palm against the metallic opening and looked down at the woman glaring at her.
Kenney clutched the ladder. “You can’t open it. The hurricane is upon us. The hatch must remain closed.”
Lucinda grasped the emergency release lever. She yanked at it, but it wouldn’t budge. Tabulek’s warning echoed in her ears.
Trust no one.
“0021!”
“He’s my creation!”
Kenney’s black eyes flickered. “Forget your bloody robot. He can be replaced.”
Lucinda strained against the red lever. How could I be so stupid? What’s happening to me? Am I breaking down? Was the Summit assignment too much? And the ceremony? And the Paradisio? And the bitter memories? And Tabulek with his blasted Meta robot? Were they all too much?
&
nbsp; The lever gave way and the hatch opened, spraying Lucinda’s face with stinging salt water. The Pacific poured into the opened hatch.
Lucinda shook her head and lunged at the maelstrom, her eyes squinting at the raging blackness. “Gog!”
The black sky flashed with lightning, illuminating the deserted platform.
She lingered a moment before lowering her head and retreating down the ladder. The hatch slammed above her.
Kenney’s gloved hand gripped her shoulder. “You lost your robot?”
Lucinda rested her forehead against the ladder.
“I’m sorry, 0021. I’m sorry for your loss.” Kenney shrugged. “But your robot is only a conglomeration of hi-tech metal and plasma. It can be replaced.”
Silence.
Kenney patted her shoulder. “We should proceed. There is much to do.”
Lucinda followed Kenney through the portal.
CHAPTER 9
The Control Room
Lucinda eyed the holographic displays and multicolored lights. A frail hand thrust at her.
“Hilda Romanoff, 0021. Your robot is magnificent.”
Lucinda grasped Romanoff’s hand. What does she mean? The Meta is lost.
A second bony hand joined the first. “Terence Gianopolis, 0021. I’m glad you’re with us.”
Lucinda grasped his hand. “Yes ... glad to be aboard.”
“Brilliant! Is it yours?” Romanoff rushed past Lucinda, her hands reaching for the black creature floating in the subdued light.
Lucinda spun around and stared in disbelief at the massive robot. “Gog?”
“That’s its name?” Romanoff was enthralled by the robot’s size. She probed the glistening black metal with her fingers before gesturing to Gianopolis. “This is amazing, Terence. When I touch its metallic skin, I feel a rush of photons.”
Gianopolis’ bloodshot eyes widened. “How do you know they’re photons?”
Romanoff lifted the small instrument in her left hand. “The photometer is going crazy. I’ve never seen such self-preservation. The robot senses my touch and responds defensively. Most improper.”
Lucinda couldn’t believe her eyes. She slumped against the lab’s curved wall while trying to fathom Gog’s escape from the storm. She flinched from Kenney’s whisper.
“How did you do that?”
“What?”
“How did you rescue him?”
Lucinda stared at the Meta. “I don’t know, Director Kenney. I’m still learning.”
Romanoff smiled at Gianopolis who had joined her at the robot. Her fingers probed the shadowed recess at the rear of the Meta’s head. Her eyes lit up. “My deity, what’s this?”
Romanoff eyed her. “What’s what?”
“This spongy plasma mass at the base of the—”
The lab flashed with blinding blue light. Romanoff’s frail body was propelled against the wall.
The three scientists rushed toward the woman crumpled against the wall. Lucinda knelt beside her and cradled the stunned woman’s head. “Hilda?”
Romanoff looked up at her, trying to focus.
Lucinda lifted her into a sitting position. “Can you hear me?”
Romanoff nodded. “Your robot is incredible. I’ve never felt such power. It seems to emanate from the spongy mass at the base of the cranium. ”
Lucinda patted her arm. “You’re okay?”
Romanoff cracked a weak smile. “Quite a jolt.”
Lucinda stood up and backed away while Gianopolis tended to his comrade. Her eyes locked on the motionless robot. Kenney’s soft voice startled her.
“It’s been a difficult transport, 0021. Best you get some sleep.”
Lucinda looked down at the slightly singed woman known as Hilda Romanoff. “Is she all right?”
“She is fine, 0021. All is well on Neptune One. A Guardian will escort you to your quarters.” Kenney smiled and backed into the shadows.
CHAPTER 10
Dreams of Hell
Lucinda’s fingers dug into the sleep bubble, her eyes staring at the compartment’s dark ceiling. Hurricane Xanadu had reached full force, its Category Three winds pummelling the platform with sixty-foot waves. It would be a long, restless night on the Philippine Sea.
She slipped her finger into her uniform’s neck pocket and pulled out a glowing vial of Paradisio. Nothing like a little trip into the subconscious to pass the hours. If she knew what was coming, she would have replaced the vial. She took a whiff and stepped into hell…
She edged toward the old man standing in the darkness, but he backed away. She tried again, but he raised his gnarled hand in a blocking gesture.
Her eyes widened. “Father?”
The old man’s face was drawn and streaked with red welts. His once-thick black hair was all but gone, replaced by scabs from chemical and laser torture. His bloodshot eyes reflected severe beatings. He could barely stand from the severe blows to his broken body.
She couldn’t contain herself. “My God, what have they done to you?”
He lowered his hand and squinted at her through his swollen eyes. “Who are you?”
She extended her hands. “It’s me, father ... it’s Lucinda.”
“Lucinda?”
“Oh, father ... oh my God.”
His tortured face twisted into a menacing glare. “Liars!”
She stared at him in horror.
“Don’t toy with me, scum. This is not my daughter, only your laser catheters probing my skull.” He raised a defiant fist. “Not good enough, scum. Not good enough to break me. I still stand to curse you.” He shook his fist and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Damn your CIA to hell! Damn your nation-state to hell! Damn your souls to —”
The old man collapsed on all fours, his body convulsing from jolts of magnetic energy.
She lunged toward him. “No ... it’s me! It’s Lucinda!”
He pushed up on his haunches, his hands clutching his stomach, his crazed eyes glaring at her. “Whatever you have done to me, whatever sickness eats at you, hear my final words.”
The old man pushed off the metal floor and raised his trembling fists. “You underestimate me, Mediglobe. You underestimate us all. I am a free man and will die that way. You took my precious daughter. You tortured my wife to death. But I still stand to curse your name. Do you hear me, Mediglobe! Jared Montavi lives to curse your name!”
Lucinda tried to reach him, but a powerful force repulsed her. She collapsed on her knees, her tear-stained face peering at the nightmare.
The old man’s eyes widened as if suddenly recognizing her. His scowl faded, replaced by a faint smile. “Lucinda?”
She sobbed, unable to speak.
“They have taken you from me. All that we believed in is gone. All that we fought for is destroyed. Life no longer matters.”
“No!”
The old man pointed the blaster at his head. “Until we meet again, my darling daughter.”
“Father!” She reeled from the ruby red flash. Her face was red-hot. She raised her fist and cursed the darkness.
“What kind of God are you! He was my father! You failed him! You failed us all! Damn you to hell!”
Her father’s ashes flickered and faded away. She was lying in the darkness of her compartment. The only sound was the wind whistling against the platform. The only sensation was the platform rolling in the waves.
She swiped the sweat off her forehead and gripped the Paradisio vial. The Guardian’s metallic voice echoed in her ears—
No, 0021. Two sniffs can be lethal.
She sniffed the vial and pressed it against her chest, and returned to bitter memories...
“0021?”
Lucinda’s head snapped up. She looked at the Proctor who was glaring at her through the brownest of eyes. The Proctor’s shaved head glistened from the sunlight streaming through the classroom’s opened windows.
The Proctor flicked her laser pointer at the illuminated screen. “Well?”
Lu
cinda’s eyes widened. A chill shot through her. To break concentration during a final exam was suicidal.
The Proctor stepped menacingly toward her. “The answer, 0021?”
Lucinda eyed the screen’s tri-dimensional scenario. One thousand starving rioters were charging one hundred overwhelmed Special Forces troops. Lasers were exhausted. Escape routes were blocked. She was in command. What must she do? What order must be given?
The Proctor jabbed her laser pointer at the hologram. “Last chance, 0021. You know the price of failure, even for a seven-year-old.”
Lucinda was about to respond when the screen morphed to a man seated at a black desk. The man was dressed in an antiquated gray business suit with a red tie hanging from his white-shirted collar. His hair was disheveled, his face shaken.
“We interrupt all programming for this critical bulletin.” The man hesitated while gathering himself. His face glistened with perspiration. He grasped a document and peered at the camera.
“I am sorry for this news.” The man hesitated. “We have received confirmed military alerts of incoming missiles. The Seventh Fleet has engaged the enemy in the Sea of Japan. Both sides have experienced catastrophic losses.”
The camera closed on the man’s face. “Despite maximum effort by the governments of China and the United States, it appears their respective militaries have launched insane attacks at one another.”
He turned toward the global map behind him and pointed a tremulous finger at the United States where ominous missile tracks approached the California coastline. Similar missile tracks crossed them en route to China.
He lowered his head. “I fear the worst, America. God protect us.”
Lucinda collapsed in her chair and looked at the Proctor who was trembling. “I’m not clear. Is this an alternate exam?”
The Proctor backed away, her face blanched.
“Madame Proctor?”
“Flee for your lives!” The shaken Proctor ran from the classroom accompanied by screams from the panicked students as they scrambling for the door.
