by Brandt Legg
“How did we get here?”
“I think Flannery Atomized you, because you vanished. I kept screaming at him, asking where you were, but some force was pushing me toward the old Cayce building. It was like having the worst headache and my legs felt like rubber. He carried Linh as we raced through the streets; it was dark and deserted.”
“You obviously made it to the portal.”
“Yeah, that was a trip. All I saw were stars and colors. Flannery held my hand. I wanted to ask about you but I couldn’t speak. The portal was a maze, I think we were in several, but it’s impossible to recall any details until we reached Wizard Island. There was a car waiting on the road and it brought us here.”
“When did I show up?”
“Flannery went inside a few seconds before me. I followed him out to the deck, but when I got here, he was gone and you were lying on the chaise.”
“Where’s Linh?”
“I told you, she’s inside resting.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’ll be fine. Yangchen is with her.” Amber winced as she sat down on the cushioned chair next to me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I cracked a rib, not sure if it was during the wave-ride – that was intensely painful – or when we hit the sand.”
I put my hands on her ribs and did a healing. She looked at me until I returned her stare. My hands roamed her body and pulled her over to the chaise. I stopped before it went too far. “I’ve got to check on Linh.”
“I guess you should,” Amber sighed.
Yangchen met me in the hall near Linh’s room. “She’s much stronger now but she’s sleeping; don’t wake her.”
I nodded and thanked her. Linh looked much better than she did at the prison. I watched her for a minute and tried to recall more details from our life together as Bola and Nares, then climbed in with her and fell asleep. In the morning I woke to an empty bed, but soon found Yangchen, Amber and Linh eating breakfast in the dining room. One of Booker’s staff saw me come in and brought me a plate of tofu-garlic scramble and blackberry cobbler. I was famished.
After a stilted exchange of “good morning” greetings, Yangchen briefed us. “Omnia has begun sending more of our supporters to Carst. It seems they need additional space in prisons for dissidents as opposition is mounting.”
“Omnia is ignoring history. This kind of crackdown is not sustainable,” I said.
“They’re arresting people now who might be subversives. Gay couples, interracial couples, anyone with a past involvement in the new age, those who’ve read books on the ‘dangerous list,’ even picking up people at random.”
“I’ve heard door-to-door searches are common and that warrants are no longer required,” Amber said.
“That’s true and the seizure of books, music, and art that’s considered anti-government has become widespread.”
“How do they have any support left?”
“It’s all being done in the name of fighting terrorism and crime. The majority of the population is still supportive. Many believe and repeat the official mantra, ‘If you haven’t done anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about.’”
“That’s because the population doesn’t know Omnia is really in charge,” I said.
“Of course not. Anyone who believes Omnia is real has joined the Movement. The rest still believe the government is there to help and protect them,” Amber said. “The sheep don’t realize the government was taken over years ago.”
“That’s not fair,” Linh said. “It’s impossible for average people to find privacy. So discussions are difficult. As soon as anyone says anything in opposition to the government, they’re labeled a terrorist and arrested or worse, they simply disappear. The Omnia-controlled media keeps repeating the government line, ‘If you aren’t hiding anything, you don’t need privacy. You only need your right to privacy if you have something to hide.’ And it’s not getting better.”
“No, it’s not,” Yangchen said. “We’ve had reports that Omnia is working on micro devices that can be implanted in peoples’ heads so their thoughts can be monitored.”
“I can’t believe people aren’t rioting in the streets,” Amber said, agitated.
“Omnia keeps the stores stocked with plastic junk made in China, food products filled with sugar, salt and artificial colors, and lots of great TV shows. Most people are happy with that,” I said.
“How does Omnia ever expect to return things to normal after these crackdowns?” Amber asked.
“This is the new normal,” Yangchen said. “Surely, Omnia never thought it would go this far. Every time there’s any trouble, they overreact, which spurs more demonstrations. It’s become a vicious circle and now we’re left with a world that makes Orwell’s 1984 look like the free-love 1960s.”
It was so depressing I could hardly think about it. What kind of world were we fighting for? What would be left? They were driving people into the arms of the Movement but the world was becoming more polarized by the day as Omnia increased its standard method of spreading hate and fear.
“Any word on Spencer?” I asked.
“None.” Her tone and dismissive expression conveyed her serious concern but also told me the discussion would go no further.
“You’ve got to go back to Carst and record what you see,” Yangchen said. “If you project that into the sky, we’ll turn huge numbers of people against Omnia.”
“I can’t.” I started to shake.
Yangchen looked at me like a protective mother and then, like an impatient boss. “Okay, first we’ll try the same method you used to record the Storch meeting after it happened. What you witnessed during your night in Carst with Trevor should be more than sufficient.”
A lump formed in my throat at the mention of Trevor. Even doing the Storch method in order to record the horrors of Carst for the Air-Projection was going to require me to relive what felt like the worst night of any of my lives. I didn’t know if I had the strength to endure that. A twinge of pain at my tattoo caused me to look at the Movement’s emblem and the word “ENDURE” under it. Trevor or Baca might be trying to send me a message. They, along with Kyle, Dad, Mom, Crowd and a million more I’d never known, had all died for this cause. It occurred to me that Trevor might have hung onto life and endured Carst so that I would see and feel that gruesome, unspeakable world.
“Nate, are you okay?” Amber asked.
I nodded absently.
“Omnia has made a mistake with Carst. It has given us a chance to go after more than just public opinion. We can hit Omnia’s greatest strength,” Yangchen said.
“Their control of the economy?” Amber asked.
“Ahh, one would think that,” Yangchen said. “Omnia has for so long convinced the world of the importance of money . . . but the money isn’t real – pieces of paper, blips on a screen – it is nothing. Their power is in their control of governments and therefore the militaries. Omnia has the guns. They directly or indirectly have influence over the NSA, CIA, FBI, Pentagon and most of their counterparts around the globe.”
“How does the existence of Carst help fight that?” I asked.
“The remaining soldiers from the Outin one hundred and four.”
“I thought they would all have been discovered and investigated after the mystic rescues,” Linh said.
“No, we put out a story that the Movement had them prisoner and we’re proposing an exchange with Omnia,” I said.
Yangchen smiled. “And there are still ninety-eight on active duty. Many are in secret contact with the Movement and are reporting the beginnings of unrest in certain branches of the military. You can’t make twenty million people disappear without a large percentage being connected to members of the service. They’ve also seen quite a bit of senseless torturing and death. That takes a toll on a person. It doesn’t always harden them; sometimes it makes a person softer.”
“Of course,” Amber said. “Everyone knows people who have disappeared
or been charged.”
“And if we can show the world where they are . . . imagine the reaction.”
45
We were able to record my earlier visit to Carst using the method Dustin taught me for the Storch meeting. That meant I didn’t have to go back, but reliving the final night of Trevor’s life took its toll. Severe flu-like symptoms barraged my body for the next few days. Yangchen thought the Atomizing had also weakened me.
“It can have a delayed reaction, especially if you’re Atomized through a portal. I didn’t even know that was possible,” Yangchen said during one of the many healings she gave me.
Amber and Linh visited a few times, but mostly I was out of it. And there were lots of Outviews.
It was weeks after the Titanic went down. I sat as Hibbs with my mistress, who was Spencer.
“Do you have full memory?” I asked her, while I finished dressing for a meeting at the White House.
“What are you talking about?”
I sighed. Spencer was missing and there I was sitting with his soul who certainly knew his every movement through all of eternity and yet I couldn’t communicate with him. I kissed her.
“I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“Billy, You’ve practically lived at the White House for the past fifteen years. Cleveland, McKinley, Roosevelt, even Taft, have all been personal friends. Don’t let him push you around on this. He’s got no future; he’ll never win re-election.”
With my full-forward-memory, I knew Taft would lose the election but that didn’t help me as Hibbs. At that time, Taft was still President of the United States and, more importantly, he was in Omnia’s pocket. “We’ll see what he says.”
“Do you really think Bill Taft is going to threaten you?”
“We’ve been through this. I don’t see how he can avoid it. He’s under a lot of pressure from the kingmakers, he knows the truth about the Titanic, he’s behind the new income tax, and he talks peace. But he knows war is needed to enrich his backers and consolidate Omnia’s power.”
Bill Taft and I had known each other for years. He’d occasionally even taken my advice, but this was different. The three-hundred-plus-pound president was agitated even at our greeting. We stood in front of his desk. Two other men were in attendance whom I did not know and to whom I was not introduced. Taft, at six-two, was nearly four inches taller than me, and because of his huge frame, he was giant-like. His chestnut hair, rosy cheeks, handlebar mustache and blue eyes normally gave him a cheerful appearance, but I’d never seen him that cross.
“Billy, I need your backing on the Federal Reserve and the income tax.” He spoke in clipped, hushed tones.
“Mr. President, you know full well where I stand on these issues.”
“Of course I do. That’s why I asked you here so I could change your mind. And Billy, why is it Mr. President all of a sudden? You’ve always called me Bill.”
“Yes, and we were always friends.”
“We’re still friends, Billy.”
“Like your friend Major Butts.”
“Damn you, Billy! Damn you.” Taft’s face reddened, his fists clenched. He half-charged me like a linebacker. The other men tensed. “I miss him; you have no idea how much I feel his loss.”
“You sacrificed him.”
“How dare you!” Taft’s voice rose.
I don’t know if I would have been so brave just as Hibbs, but I had full memory of Nate’s life and history. I didn’t believe Taft had prior knowledge of the Titanic’s intentional sinking, but he sure knew soon after. He and Butts were very close friends but Butts was secretly working to undermine the Federal Reserve, and the introduction of the federal income tax while Taft was, at the least, completely beholden to Omnia and possibly part of its hierarchy.
“I’m sorry, Mr. President, we are no longer friends. Your friendships don’t seem to end well.”
“Let me tell you something, Mr. Hibbs. The world you imagine – a place of fairness and truth – it only exists in fairytales. The real world is full of compromise, deals and betrayals.”
“Maybe your world, Mr. President, but not mine.”
“Don’t pretend you got rich by following the rules. It’s not possible.”
“Following the rules is one thing. Murder, war, creating a system of financial slavery is quite another.”
“It is time for you to leave.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I stopped at the door. “And Mr. President, be careful what you trade for re-election, it might not be worth it.”
“Are you threatening me, Hibbs? It sounds like you might be threatening the President of the United States.”
“I never threaten, Mr. President. I simply advise.”
On the short drive back to my office, I wondered if my actions had been wise.
“Mr. Hibbs,” my secretary began, as I walked in. “This is Mr. Caper. He doesn’t have an appointment but he insists you’ll want to meet with him.”
Mr. Caper rose and extended a slender hand. He was impeccably trimmed and manicured, his suit hand-tailored. But the accoutrements of wealth and gold-wire glasses did little to mask his identity.
“Are you armed, Dunaway?” I asked.
“I am a gentleman.” He smiled, slightly.
Trapped in this Outview, I knew there was a chance I was going to die, although, in my prior visits, Hibbs consistently lived until 1937, twenty-five years beyond my meeting with President Taft. Still Dunaway’s arrival did not bode well.
“After you.” I ushered him into my office.
Once seated at the small conference table, I asked him if he was there to kill me.
“Quite the contrary, Hibbsy, ol’ boy, I’m here to save you.”
“Hard to believe.”
“Ain’t it though?” He pulled out a cigarette case and offered me one.
I shook my head and reached for my own. As Nate I was surprised by how much Hibbs’ case looked like the Jadeo. It caught Dunaway’s eye too, and he must have thought the same thing. Hibbs later told me he’d modeled it after the Jadeo.
“How are you going to save me, or the better question is, why?” I exhaled smoke in his direction.
“The President is about to become compliant in your assassination.”
46
“It’s a problem. A big one.” He inhaled the cigarette slowly. “See, if you die tonight, like they plan, your mistress, played by our very own Spencer, will use every contact, trick and resource to expose the plot. And you know what? It works. A scandal erupts. The President is brought down and a chain of events takes place that actually throws America into a second civil war – communists against capitalists. Omnia, of course, comes out on top and that makes them unstoppable by the time you and I are born a hundred years from now.”
“Doesn’t Omnia know this as well?” I asked.
“Why yes, I’m sure they do. At least our modern Omnia. Omnia back here in 1912 doesn’t know yet.”
“I would assume our modern Omnia could get word back to the 1912 group and make sure it goes their way,” I said.
“Yes, you’d think that. But these 1912 guys aren’t as emboldened as our bloated power-lords. See, back here in simpler days they’re just about to make the play for the big time. Up until now, it’s all been easy – backroom deals, corruption, a little war here and there. But they’re right at the cusp of going for it all – income tax, WWI and II, and the biggest deal of all, the Federal Reserve. They’re grabbing it all and they aren’t about to risk it for some prophecy delivered from the future. I mean how well did you fare trying to stop people from getting on the God-dammed Titanic?”
“Okay, I’m listening,” I said.
“It’s amusing. Our modern Omnia is battling the 1912 version because they both want different outcomes. We can use that to our advantage.”
“Kind of like the only two surviving members of a generation’s seven battling each other because they want to take different paths to the same outcome.” I smiled.
“No. Omnia is the enemy; you’re just in the way.” He crushed out his cigarette.
“Until now, you’ve been the betrayer, the killer in the crowd, but now you’re a co-conspirator who needs me to live,” I said, rising out of my seat. “Then, you’ll dispose of me at a time of more suitable convenience.”
“Okay, Hibbsy. I’m mean, despicable, obnoxious and disliked . . . that cannot be denied,” he mimicked. “That’s the difference between you and me. I’m just trying to save the world, I’m not trying to make friends. You’re trying to save the world, get your picture put on a stamp, and have a national forest named after you or something. Maybe you should study a little more history – that is your subject, right, Nate? The people who change things weren’t always sweet and popular.”
“I can think of a few – Gandhi, King, Mandela.”
“Ha! How much change did they actually achieve? They were smart strategists with good PR but they became martyrs to their causes. They weren’t saints.”
“Who is a saint? They each changed the world for the better,” I said.
“Fine. Whatever. They’re all on postage stamps, even have national holidays. I’m sure you’ll be studied by schoolchildren one day and maybe even be an excuse for a department store to have a giant sale on bedding. In the meantime, I’m going to do more than get people to be nice to each other. I’m going to wake them up and show them their souls!”
“Then you don’t need me at all, Dunaway.”
“Probably not. But, my life is complicated enough and if Hibbs lives another twenty-five years, it’ll be much easier on me.”
“I’ll do it if you give me the Jadeo and Clastier.”
“No, you’ll do it because if Hibbs dies tonight you won’t be able to stop Omnia in the future, any more than I will.”
“There’ll be other ways.”
“Really? Then why am I here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
We stared at each other.
“Forget it,” I said, standing up. “You know the way out.” I was bluffing. This might be my best chance to get the Jadeo and Clastier back, but if Dunaway was this worried about Clastier, then I was too. I also considered this to be a chance to show Dunaway that we were more powerful working together.
