by Gary Naiman
Lucinda felt their bodies slamming against her. She was swept toward the door, her eyes staring at the screen’s global map, its tracers displaying the incoming ICBM’s. Someone shouted at her.
“What’s wrong with you, 0021! Get out! We only have minutes!”
The classroom faded, its final image the ominous hologram of incoming missile tracks...
Lucinda’s heart was racing uncontrollably. She pushed up from the sleep bubble while trying to focus on the silver car racing toward the mountains. She could see the instrument panel now. The speedometer registered one hundred eighty kilometres per hour. Beside it, a small video screen displayed the shaken newscaster’s image. He was barely able to contain himself as he looked down at his monitor.
“Dear Lord, we have confirmed impacts in Seattle and Portland. Space Command reports four missiles closing on San Francisco. The missiles are imminent...”
The screen hissed and went black. A strange warmth penetrated the seven-year-old clinging to her seat harness. In total panic, she pressed the car’s manual control button, gripped the steering wheel, and jammed her foot on the brake while skidding the small car behind a concrete statue.
The sky glowed with blinding unearthly light. A dull roar came from the west. She scrambled out of the car and dived against the statue, her body pressed against it, her hands covering her head.
The ground lurched from a terrific shock wave. The roar was deafening. A blast of superheated wind ignited the trees to either side of the statue. She pressed her body against the statue while sobbing uncontrollably. Her ears rang from the deafening roar.
“Mother! Father! I’m so afraid! I don’t want to die!”
Everything was dark now. The roar was gone. The air was thick with drifting smoke. The nightmare had morphed to a column of refugees staggering along a deserted road in the foothills. The road was covered with falling ash. To the west, the night sky glowed bright orange.
She stumbled forward, her head lowered, her gray eyes stinging from the acrid smoke. Behind her, the city of San Francisco was gone, its majestic towers and citizens vaporized by four twenty megaton nuclear bombs.
She staggered past a collapsed straggler, then another. The intense radiation was taking effect. The Third World War had begun...
Lucinda fell back on the sleep bubble and gripped her forehead. Clear your head, woman. What’s happening to you? You don’t want to relive this.
Her eyes widened. Fool. They must have spiked your Paradisio. Their sensors are monitoring you. They’re going to kill you!
A chill swept through her. Her mind was racing. Which one is it? Kenney? Gianopolis? Romanoff? The blasted Meta? Maybe all of them!
She reeled from a psychedelic jolt. The trip was not over. Her ears rang from the cries of people in pain...
She pushed up from the sleep bubble and stared at the darkness. The nightmare had morphed to a makeshift triage encampment in the hills where hundreds of dead and dying were being given their last rites by a priest who would soon suffer the same fate.
She leaned toward the image of a seven-year-old girl staggering through the sea of helpless souls, her tattered white uniform clinging to her body. Her cropped black hair was covered with gray ash. Her glazed eyes were focused on the orange glow to the west.
The girl collapsed on the moist earth and curled in a ball, and she heard a deep, powerful voice coming from the helicopters floating overhead.
“Hear me, one and all!”
She raised her head and peered at the beams of light projecting downward from the helicopters. The holographic beams converged above the encampment, displaying a man’s face in the smoky haze. All was silent. All eyes stared at the face in the dark sky.
“I am Sir Thomas Philibin, first appointed leader of your Consortium.”
The rescue facility was silent. The crippled and dying stared at the massive image peering down at them.
The image broadened, revealing the man’s iridescent-gold uniform. His words reverberated through the stunned onlookers.
“My brothers and sisters. These madmen have gone too far. My colleagues and I will no longer stand idly by. To attack innocent citizens with weapons of mass destruction is the final straw!”
The girl rose to her feet, her eyes locked on the man in iridescent-gold.
“Here me, brothers and sisters! The era of the nation-states is over! The era of reason begins!”
A rush of cheers and clenched fists surged through the stunned crowd.
“For too long, we have stood by and watched the nation-states destroy their citizens for profit and ego. THOSE DAYS ARE OVER!”
The cheers intensified. People were standing, their fists shaking at the glowing remnants of their precious San Francisco.
“Hear me, my brothers and sisters. I have issued a warning to the United States and People’s Republic of China to cease their suicidal demagoguery or we will shut them down!
The girl raised her clenched fist. “Yes! Shut them down! Shut them all down!”
“If the fools fail to comply, they will soon know the power of the Consortium. Hear me, my brothers and sisters. There will be no further missile launches. There will be no further detonations. Their missile silos are inoperative. Their satellites are inoperative. Their militaries are inoperative. WE HAVE SHUT THEM DOWN!”
Everyone was standing and cheering. The cries of joy were deafening.
“Our people suffer. Our imperative is clear. Let us begin the crusade. A BETTER WORLD FOR US ALL!”
Philibin’s image faded amidst the roar...
Lucinda blinked at the darkness. All was silent except the whistling wind. She forced herself up from the sleep bubble and grasped her head.
“Are you well, 0021?”
Lucinda looked at the amber eye. “Gog?”
“Yes, 0021.”
“You were here all the time?”
“I am with you, 0021.”
CHAPTER 11
The Gordian Octagon
It was noon on the Philippine Sea. The slate blue swells rose menacingly from the remnants of Hurricane Xanadu, but the sun had broken through and the wind was easing.
Lucinda stood on the swaying platform, her hands grasping the alloy railing. She inhaled the brisk salt spray while studying the massive gray cargo ship fading in the white-capped waves, its wake pointed east toward the Americas.
She frowned while recalling last night’s Paradisio trip. Perhaps the Guardian was right that night on Lake Michigan. Perhaps it was time to swear off the powerful drug.”
“How are we feeling, 0021?”
Kenney’s words startled her. She turned to the Project Director who was shuffling across the deck toward her.
Kenney pushed back her windswept black hair. “Get any sleep?”
“Some.”
“Quite a storm. We were fortunate it veered away.”
Lucinda nodded faintly.
Kenney rested her arms on the rail and eyed the submerging cargo ship. “There’s enough Manna in that hold to feed ten million people for a month.”
Lucinda squinted at the ship’s conning tower slipping beneath the waves. “How often do they come?”
“The next one arrives tonight.”
Lucinda stared at the wake. “One ship per day?”
“Pretty much. Lots of hungry people out there.”
“Where do they go?”
Kenney nodded at the submerging conning tower. “That one’s headed for our unloading complex in Puerto Vallarta. Tonight’s ship is destined for our complex in Hong Kong.”
“How many complexes are there?
“Twelve.” Kenney gripped the rail. “The cargo ship’s job is easy compared to the cargo spheres that must airlift the Manna from the unloading complexes to distribution camps across the globe.” She sighed. “Lots of unrest at those camps. Lots of desperate people.”
Lucinda stared at the whitecaps.
“It’s all timing, really. Neptune’s distribution networ
k is managed by the planet’s finest computers, communications technology, and transport equipment, all of them integrated through super-intelligent logistics software.”
Lucinda smiled. “You sound proud, Madame Director. Do I detect a note of involvement?”
Kenney returned the smile. “I led the network’s development.” She nodded at the opened hatch. “Ready for some work?’
Lucinda pushed away from the rail and followed Kenney down the opened hatch. They were nearly to the master control room when Kenney paused and nodded at the twin robots flanking the control room’s entrance. “You know the Guardian series?”
Lucinda stared at the menacing black arms and glowing red eyes. “They aren’t supposed to glow like that unless there is a threat.”
“Correct, 0021.”
Lucinda eyed Kenney. “Me?”
“No, 0021. You have been cleared, but not the creature behind you.”
Lucinda turned to the amber eye peering at them from the corridor. Without hesitation, she advanced toward the Meta, her hand raised in a blocking motion. “Gog, you are to return to my sleep chamber and remain there.”
Gog peered at her.
Lucinda stepped closer, her face flushed. “Understood?”
The Meta retreated down the corridor and disappeared through the passageway leading to Lucinda’s private quarter.
“He needs work, 0021.”
Lucinda ignored Kenney’s slur. “As I told you, I’m still learning.” She turned to Kenney and forced a smile. “As a research scientist, I’m sure you understand.”
Kenney didn’t return the smile. Her black eyes locked on Lucinda. “Allow me to be blunt, 0021.”
Lucinda nodded.
“You were selected for this mission from all iridescent-blues and greens.”
“Yes?”
“For some inexplicable reason, the Consortium’s computers chose you, a robotic specialist, above all others.”
Silence.
“Why, 0021? Why choose a robotic specialist over oceanographers, agronomists, chemists, and biologists?”
“I don’t know, Madame Director.”
Kenney pressed closer, her stare unwavering. “Why are you here, 0021? What is your purpose?”
Lucinda suppressed a chill. “You mean my assignment?”
“I need clarification, 0021. Why did they send you?”
Tabulek’s words rang in Lucinda’s ears. Trust no one. She opened her hands in a subservient gesture. “I was told my skills were needed to assist you and your colleagues.”
Kenney’s eyes burned into her. “And?”
Lucinda hesitates. “I was given a memory cube to grasp the importance of Neptune’s Mariana Trench operation.”
“Who issued it to you?”
“Anatole Karpolov, ma’am. You know him?”
Kenney ignored Lucinda’s reference to Robotron’s famed robotic guru and CEO. She backed away and folded her arms. “Did you find the cube’s content enlightening?”
Lucinda stared at her. “I found it overwhelming, Madame Director.”
“Then you know about the attempted sabotage?”
Lucinda nodded. “I was told an attempt has been made to destroy this facility.”
Kenney’s eyes flickered. “By?”
“The Anarchists, Madame Director.”
“And your assignment?”
Lucinda shrugged. “I was told my skills were needed and you would fill in the specifics.”
They stared at each other in the soft infrared light.
Kenney cracked a smile. “Sorry, 0021, protocol and all that.” She backed away and gestured to the control room entrance. “Let us proceed, there is much to do.”
Lucinda followed Kenney past the Guardians. Their eyes had returned to pale red.
The dimly lit control room flickered with colored lights. Lucinda eyed the holographic screen displaying the Philippine Sea. In a few hours, the screen would display the next incoming cargo ship.
Kenney gestured toward Gianopolis and Romanoff who were conversing before a large octagonal object floating above the floor. Kenney’s soft voice echoed in Lucinda’s ears.
“Welcome to your assignment, 0021.”
Lucinda stepped toward the throbbing black octagon. “What is it?”
“The most important object on the planet.” Gianopolis backed away from the octagon and smiled at his guest. “Welcome, 0021.”
Lucinda nodded.
Gianopolis glanced at Kenney. “You want me to explain?”
Kenney nodded and patted Lucinda’s shoulder. “Good luck, 0021.” She turned and disappeared through the control room’s opened portal.
CHAPTER 12
The Warning
“Recognize it, 0021?”
Lucinda eyed the throbbing octagon. “A Gordian, I believe.”
Gianopolis nodded.
“May I probe it?”
“If you wish.”
Lucinda reached into the octagon’s plasma and felt its magnetic energy surge across her fingers and wrist.
Gianopolis eased beside her. “Do you see the void at the center?”
Lucinda peered through the plasma’s interlocked tri-dimensional equations. Her eyes focused on the smudge at the octagon’s core. She touched the smudge with her forefinger, setting off a flurry of sparks.
Gianopolis glared at the smudge. “We have struggled with that void for six months. Each time we develop a solution; the blasted thing alters its surrounding equations. In the end, the void is always there... challenging us ... defying us.”
Lucinda sensed the strain in his voice. She withdrew her hand and backed away, her eyes on the smudge.
“Perhaps you can help us.”
She folded her arms and sighed. “In my training, I have worked numerous Gordians, but none like this. The odds of a successful solution are bleak.”
Romanoff stepped forward, her face filled with concern. “We have no choice, 0021. That void must be solved.”
Lucinda stared at the two exhausted scientists. “I will do my best.”
Romanoff’s eyes flickered. “Let us talk.” She gestured to the small table at the rear of the control room.
Romanoff slipped into one of the table’s plasma chairs. She clasped her hands and stared at the woman seated across from her. “You know Manna’s history?”
Lucinda eyed the woman in iridescent-copper. “Not as much as you.”
Romanoff smiled. “Tell me what you know.”
Lucinda listened to the control room’s warbling static. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Manna was discovered in 2051. It was the Consortium’s greatest moment since the 2035 intervention.”
Romanoff raised her hand in a blocking motion. “We’re not interested in Consortium history, only the rise of Manna.”
Lucinda nodded. “The planet’s food supply had been compromised by the nation-states’ greed-driven politicians. Global corruption, genetic seed failure, the ’38 mega-quake, and exhausted top soils had set the stage for a food crisis beyond anything imaginable.”
Romanoff leaned toward her. “And?”
Lucinda shrugged. “That’s all I know.”
Romanoff’s eyes widened. “All? Were you not on the front lines during the ’53 food riots?”
Lucinda gave her a startled look. “You know about that?”
Romanoff smiled. “Perhaps I am mistaken.”
Lucinda sank in the plasma chair.
“0021?”
Lucinda looked down. “It was a difficult assignment. They were so hungry. It’s not easy to kill defenseless people.”
Romanoff stared at her. “I understand. It was difficult for me too.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “I lost my brother in those riots.”
The only sound was the warbling.
Romanoff eased back in her chair. “You have studied an orientation cube?”
“Yes.”
“Brilliant, no?”
“Yes ... the complex is mind
boggling.”
Romanoff’s green eyes trained on her. “Then know this, 0021. Our probes mine the greatest depth on the planet. We dredge it, capture its precious algae, enrich it, expand it, and carry it to the hungered masses in the form of Manna.” She glared at Lucinda. “If we don’t conquer that small void in the octagon, all Manna production will cease within the year.”
Dead silence, except for the warbling.
Gianopolis rested a hand on Lucinda’s shoulder. “This is top secret, 0021.”
Lucinda forced out the words. “I understand.”
Gianopolis leaned toward her. “Last month, our seabed sensors detected a depletion of blue-green algae. Without it, Manna cannot be produced.” He paused to let his words to sink in. “Our computers are extremely accurate. They project exhaustion of the algae within the year.”
Lucinda gazed at the Octagon in disbelief.
“The Gordian is our only hope. If we can solve the void, we will give the Consortium three more years.”
“Three?”
“Yes, 0021. If solved, the Gordian Octagon will extend the Manna supply threefold. If we can complete the puzzle, the masses will be granted three more years.”
Tabulek’s words rang in her ears. The truth had been revealed and it was profound. She looked at her two colleagues. “Only three?”
Gianopolis nodded.
“And after that?”
Gianopolis shrugged. “If we don’t solve the Gordian now, it won’t matter.”
CHAPTER 13
Sabotage
“ALERT! ALERT!”
Tabulek shielded his eyes from the blinding red light pulsing through the domed control room. The four Sensor 12 robots hovered above the master console, their red eyes focused on the incoming message. Tabulek rushed toward them, his ears ringing from the deafening klaxon horn and digitized voice echoing off the circular walls.
“ALERT! ALERT!”
Tabulek glared at the klaxon and waved his hand over the console’s dancing light beams. The pulsing red light faded with its strident audio alert.
Tabulek rested his trembling hands on the command console, his dazed eyes staring at the flickering instruments. He gathered himself and spoke deliberately. “Alert received. Confirm identity and cause.”
