“Hi, Xan,” Justin said. He rubbed his eyes.
“I’m deaf, Justin,” Xan replied.
Justin looked at him surprised and then he saw a screen on Xan’s wheelchair. On it was “Hi, Xan.”
“It takes what you say and puts it on the screen,” Xan said.
“Cool.”
“When you’re ready, I’ll show you rest of the base. We can even get a breath of fresh air. There’s a lot I have to tell you.”
Justin blinked his eyes a few times extra wide and looked down at his forearm. No cut.
“You can try it if you want, but this is real. I don’t choose to be deaf with no leg and a gimp arm,” Xan said. For emphasis, with his good arm he picked up the other and let it flop back to his lap.
“Where are my parents?” Justin asked. It was inevitable.
“Rest a little bit, get your bearings and when you’re ready I’ll tell you everything.” Xan left the room.
Two hours later he and Xan were being pushed through the throng of Beijing’s crowds. A discrete perimeter of soldiers kept a cushion of space around them. Earlier, Justin had tried to stand up but his legs were too weak and he almost toppled over.
“I want to walk,” Justin said when Xan came in to check on him. He had found Justin on the floor.
“Then walk.” Xan waited patiently as Justin struggled, but he finally stood up. His legs shook like a newborn colt’s.
Justin grimaced. “It hurts.”
“Yes,” Xan said. “It’s the atrophy. You’re young. You’ll recover quickly.”
The city was alive. They wheeled through a busy market that hadn’t changed in two hundred years. Justin stared at the skinned ducks hanging by their feet and the poor caged crickets in full witness of their brethren skewered on sticks and smoking over a fire.
“This is China?” Justin said.
“Yes.”
Justin slapped his face, trying to wake up. He had withdrawn into the wheelchair.
“That won’t help,” Xan said. He turned his wheelchair toward him. “Do you believe this is real?”
Justin knew it was real. Online his body felt light, his mind as open as the sky. In the real world, a fat man sat on his chest and everything was loud and distracting and scary. The marketplace was his nightmare. Around him swarms of people went about their lives, bartering, selling, laughing, yelling. They glanced warily at Xan and his plainclothes soldiers. Justin saw mothers usher children in the opposite direction. The smells that filled the air were pleasant and foreign. He nodded.
“I will only tell you the truth. I have told lies before, but that won’t get me what I want,” Xan said. “But the truth hurts.”
“My parents,” Justin said. It was clear. They would never let someone take him. Tears spilled out.
“Your parents are dead. I don’t know the details, but it was the U.S. military, so the only comforting thing I can offer is that it was quick.”
“The blonde man. The long haired blonde man.” Justin rocked back and forth, hugging himself. He looked up at Xan. “A man came to our door from the military, he spoke with my dad. He spoke to me and I told him about the plane ride to the moon.”
“I don’t know, Justin. I don’t have that answer,” Xan replied.
“His name was Mike Glass. That was his name.” Justin heaved and gasped, the analytical side of his brain overcome by his emotions.
Xan remained quiet. The bustle of the market continued uninterrupted by this revelation.
“That is the hardest thing I have to tell you, Justin. When you’re ready, I’ll tell you the rest.”
Back at the base Xan told Justin how the U.S. had used him while under the false construct of a coma. How the King Sleeper had influenced nations and persuaded policy changes favorable to the United States. How he was manipulated to hack into unsuspecting minds and even kill. Xan pulled no punches and the boy grew to trust Xan quickly. He had eyes that Justin took to be kind, not knowing that they never changed.
A week later the boy went online of his own free will. After tests, he built his own construct, a place in cyberspace where he was comfortable. It was his farm. He built his parents and they were exact in their likeness. In a distant field he even had a combine moving row-to-row, knowing that Margarito and Fernando were at the wheel.
Xan visited the farm and met his parents.
“This is your home?” Xan said to Justin.
“Yep. It’s not fancy but I liked it,” Justin said. His parents walked by him and his eyes saddened. But he liked what he had done. It was better than a funeral or a tombstone. It was a living memorial, a constant reminder of what he had lost, but also of what he once had had.
“It’s beautiful, Justin. As peaceful as the river,” Xan said. They both watched his parents go into the house. “I will ask you to do things and show you the way. I’ll explain why. And you can decide. Deal?”
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Justin said. His lip trembled. He understood that he had that power, but murder wasn’t in him.
“I’ll never ask that, Justin. I’m not looking to end the world. I just want to bring it back into balance.”
“What first?” Justin rose a foot off the ground. He closed his eyes and the air shimmered around him as the fabric of time began to tear.
“I want you to map out the U.S. banking system and their credit unions.”
“That sounds boring,” Justin replied.
“Finance is a nation’s blood, Justin.”
The air around Justin rippled. Outside the construct in cyberspace, his mindscape unfurled like the top of a parachute. It was a green fog infinitely growing.
“You should probably step back.”
Xan did one better and disappeared back to the real. He had the first of multiple surgeries scheduled for this afternoon. He looked at his limp arm. Amputation. He raised his right arm and inspected his hand. He opened and closed it. He pressed it against the cold rail of his wheelchair. He pressed his palm against the sharp edge of a table. Never again. The Shin battle chassis had passed its final prototyping. The military was manufacturing one per day and they were ramping up more factories. The entire government had gone off-line. They were receiving psychiatric evaluations to determine what affect the King Sleeper had had on them. And they were furious. They had been raped and they wanted war.
“You don’t have to do this,” a female voice said. He couldn’t hear her, but he saw the words fill the screen. Xan had told the scientists on the battle chassis project how he wanted to proceed.
“So they send you to convince me otherwise,” he said. He turned to an attractive woman in her thirties. “How’s your morning?”
Xinting was a top scientist at the Colossal Core. He had recruited her when she was sixteen. In another reality, Xan thought, they could have been more than just colleagues. Her knowledge was commandeered to develop the implant for the Shin battle chassis.
“We have plenty of soldiers that willfully volunteered.”
“Are you worried for me?” Xan teased. He knew she saw him as an elder, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re too important to be the test subject. You found the King Sleeper, you created all of this and without you we wouldn’t have had a chance. We need you.”
Xan changed the subject. “How is he doing, in your opinion?”
Justin had grown attached to Xinting. When Xan saw this bond, he encouraged it. The boy needed a sanctuary. A person he could confide in that wasn’t in a uniform or white coat. She joked with him. She played with him. Justin loved puzzles. HUGE puzzles. They even had a game where the pieces of three would be mixed together. He solved them quickly. The boy cried in her arms when he talked about his mom and dad. One night, under heavy guard, Xan let Justin go to the home Xinting shared with her parents. This freedom had made Justin more amenable. Dr. Kim, who had fiercely disagreed when Xan had removed the construct, apologized daily.
“He doesn’t ha
ve Asperger’s,” Xinting said. “In the U.S. file he was diagnosed with it, but he only has the symptoms. His brain is just different.” She went back to the old subject. “You are risking your life, Xan. We don’t know everything yet.”
“I’ve always heard that Chinese women are subservient, but I’ve never met one,” Xan mused. “If I can ask our young soldiers to give up their able bodies for China, then I can give up my lame one and lead them. It’s fitting, Xinting, don’t you see? I’ve always been in the shadows and after this I can never hide again. There are too many shadow men. Too many puppeteers. It’s time we turn on the light and watch the cockroaches scatter. Including me. We need an honest world.”
“Will this give us one?”
“As long as the overpowering influence doesn’t subvert its own intentions. This is the closest we will ever be.”
= = =
Xan’s surgeries would take weeks to complete. He had provided Xinting a list. She showed it to Justin before he linked in.
He looked it over. “No one will get hurt?” he asked. There were over two hundred tasks. His right hand tapped his thigh.
“Xan has respected your wishes,” she said. “He wants your gift to cause our countries to unite. It may not seem so, but his plan is for peace. We need each other, Justin. We need to be united in this new world.”
“Will you come with me to the farm?” he asked. She recognized that he was about to cry.
She knelt down eye-to-eye. “What is it?”
“My parents don’t have anything more to say.” His lip trembled. “They sound like me.”
Xinting’s heart broke. She hugged him.
“Of course, Justin. Of course. I’m honored to.”
She ordered technicians to install a Sleeper chair next to the crucifix.
At the farm, she met his parents. She pet his dogs. She waved to Fernando and Margarito as they passed by in giant red combines. Dr. Lindo had adjusted the construct so that time stood still as the days spun into months. Justin did the opposite. An hour in cyberspace was one minute in the real world.
“I don’t belong out there,” Justin explained. “This is where I’m me.”
“You’re beautiful in either place.”
Justin smiled.
In his front yard, Justin rose into the air. The Colossal Core thumped with his power. He began:
–Mirror Data Node 2 in New York and Data Node 1 in Chicago. Hijack Cores. Hack respective stock exchanges. Back up stock prices. Replace all stocks with randomly generated share prices.–
They laughed at dinner. His was a big belly laugh. They ate spaghetti and meatballs.
–Shut down all electric grids to U.S. military bases around the world.–
He showed her how to shoot his rifle.
–Disconnect all communication systems for U.S. military bases around the world.–
They walked through the fields. Justin told her about things he learned from his dad. She spoke about her childhood friends.
–Disconnect U.S. military radar surveillance on the Eastern Seaboard. Hack ballistic missile silos and disconnect all overriding protocols. Target Washington, D.C. Initiate test launch sequence.–
Xinting cried discussing her inability to bear a child.
–Hack into credit unions. Back up credit records. Erase all credit records.–
Xinting noticed that Justin’s parents weren’t around any longer.
–Hack the Washington, D.C. power grid. Shut down all power to government buildings.–
Winter came. Overnight Justin created a huge hill with a ski lift. They went sledding the entire day.
–Crash Data Node 12 in Washington, D.C.–
He was teary eyed all-day and combative. When she finally got him to speak, he told her he was horrible to his mom when she was alive and “I can’t take it back.”
–Crash Data Node 3 in Los Angeles.–
She had told Justin a few weeks before that she had never celebrated Christmas. Christmas morning, she walked down to a beautifully decorated tree. The dogs sat in front of it, wagging their tails. Underneath it were a pile of gifts. Justin was making breakfast.
“But I don’t have anything for you!” she said.
“You’re my gift,” he said and hugged her.
–Hack into CIA and copy files of all current covert operatives. Contact operatives and tell them they’ve been compromised. Twenty-four hours later post list with attached government files to all message boards and news outlet.–
They sat near a creek. Spring had arrived. “Would you be my step mom?” he asked.
–Hack into . . . –
She loved this child as if he was her own.
Chapter 18
Evan was in his office at the White House. The lights were out. He was disconnected from the Mindlink. He was sulking.
It was no secret. The Chinese had the King Sleeper. They had found Mike Glass clinging to life but conscious enough to point at three Chinese soldiers that had died at the hands of Tank Major Janis. One had been crushed into a meat rug. The other two were rippled with glass shards. One week later, the U.S. economy was in shambles, Washington, D.C. had been cast into the Dark Ages, and the military was on life support. Fucking Panama could invade us.
And that was what they saw. The problem and beauty of the King Sleeper was that it was difficult to know when he was being used. Who knows what else he was doing . . . maybe all the politicians in Washington would vote that our new national anthem was “Freebird.” As stupid as it sounded, it could be done.
Evan rarely drank, but now was as good of a time as any. Next to him was the same bottle of scotch that WarDon had drunk before he decided to punt. Half the bottle was left; it was old, very old. It had been in WarDon’s effects, meant for his family. Evan had plucked it out without a stutter in his step. He thought it was funny to have the bottle. He thought, one day, he’d toast to his fallen comrade. Without him, none of this would have been possible.
“What’s wrong with me?” Evan asked the room. The black curtains let some light in and the two windows stared at him with cataract eyes. He pushed himself deeper into the corner to avoid their gaze.
He felt like a boy. Like when he was a boy. Always close, but never quite number one. He was never an athlete, it wasn’t about that. He thought athletics, on the whole, were a retarded waste of time.
His dad was a physicist, his mom a shrink. They had always instilled in him a sense of expectation, but never of love. His parents didn’t love each other after all; their marriage just made sense. His dad used to bang the babysitter. Evan remembered that. He was young, it was a memory built with fuzz from lack of understanding, but the hug he gave Kim, the sixteen-year-old next door neighbor, wasn’t done the right way.
His mom lived at her practice. Dinner was quiet and tight lipped. Conversations were always about work. Evan remembered telling them that he had a girlfriend—Tara—when he was ten.
“I love her!” he exclaimed. They had been together for one week. She was a third grader and pretty. She wore a side ponytail that he dug.
“You don’t know what love is, honey,” his mom said dismissively before she slipped a piece of pork chop into her mouth. The conversation turned back to themselves.
A child is forced to see the world through their parent’s filter and the predilections and values that color it. Evan only got their attention when he excelled academically because that was all they knew and how they assessed worth, and so he did that.
He began college at the age of fifteen and he still felt stupid because he had a classmate who was fourteen. He got doctorates in medicine and mechanical engineering—which his parents approved of—but his doctorate in cyberphysics confused them.
“What are you going to do with that?” his dad asked. They didn’t pay for it and he had reached an age where he wondered why the fuck they cared.
Luckily, they died. His father loved to smoke his pipe late at night while he read. He fell asleep with it. It
was peaceful. The fire ate up his dad. Closed casket for pops. But at the funeral, his mom looked like she was sleeping.
He was already wired the way he was, but at least he didn’t have to hear their fucking nagging and backhanded praise anymore.
“I know what’s wrong with me,” Evan giggled. “I just want to make them proud.”
He took a swig directly from the bottle. It tasted of caramel and fire.
He stood up and paced the dark room. He wouldn’t be beaten. No. But even if he found the King Sleeper online, it would be impossible to find its tail. It had one, but to find it, you’d have to penetrate its immense mindscape. If it knew you were in it, it could kill you.
Evan went to his desk and hit the speaker.
“Yes?” the receptionist asked.
“Get me Cynthia,” Evan said.
“Cynthia Revo?”
“Who the fuck do you think?” He spat.
A slight pause. “Hold.” She went away.
Evan paced the room.
“Evan?” It was Cynthia. He shot over to the phone.
“We can’t trace the King Sleeper’s tail because of the mindscape, it’ll chew up anyone who tries,” he said. “How else could we find him?”
“Are you drunk?”
Evan looked at the bottle in his hand. Most of it was gone now. “Definitely.”
“The Western Curse,” Cynthia said. It took Lindo a minute to even recall who they were. The fucking terrorists at O’Hare.
“Why do you say that?”
“They used AK47’s, RPG’s—old weapons, and yet they happened to have state-of-the-art miniguns and a computer that could hack into the Tank Major and upload a virus. They’re a contradiction and that contradiction indicates a partnership with funds.” She continued. “Do you remember Harold Renki?”
“Yes, your scientist who was murdered,” Evan replied. “What’s the connection between him and the Western Curse?”
“None. But there is one degree of separation.”
“China?” Evan said.
“Specifically a man named Xan,” Cynthia said. Her research on Harold Renki had proven fruitful. While he had been squeaky clean online, Sabot had found detailed information in a hidden safe at his estate and multiple online aliases.
The Northern Star Trilogy: Omnibus Edition Page 28
