Evolution (19 page)

* * *

S
ara hated meetings
. It didn’t matter if they were up in space or in her father’s grand office. They were just flat-out boring. Talk, talk, talk, as if that ever accomplished anything. And now that she had instant access to any information, the activity seemed completely pointless. But she still felt insulted by the fact that so many people had thought she shouldn’t be in on the current meeting. She’d been the one kidnapped, not them. If something was to be done about it, she had a right to be included. And she was going to one day take charge of the world’s biggest company—they had to let her in on plans that involved her.

Jess sat close to Sara on the couch in Sam’s office. Other than allowing a few moments for a private father-daughter discussion, Jess hadn’t been more than ten feet from Sara since her rescue.

Her father looked tired, more so than she could ever remember. “This isn’t just about one church. Father Damien mentioned the United Churches of the Moral Compass.”

Fletcher Bloodworth, the odd-looking man in strange clothing, unrolled an old-fashioned paper map. Little crosses dotted the landscape. “It’s not as united as they’d like you to believe. More like a group of evangelical ideologies with a common enemy—you. They do share the rural villages that supply them with non-networked equipment. Other than that, there’s not a lot that ties them together. There’s no single mother church to contend with but hundreds of individual communities.”

“So they’re not the threat they pretend to be?” Sam asked.

“They infect the local populations with their beliefs, so I’d say they’re more of a threat. It’d be easier to take on one unified system.”

Sara wasn’t sure she liked Fletcher. He’d helped in her escape, but he knew a little too much about these malcontents.

“It’s not the churches we should be worried about,” Jess said. “I care about people, not organizations. How do we go about winning them back?”

Michael Baldwin couldn’t stop pacing. Sara had met the man at one of Rendition’s board meetings. She’d heard something about him working for the government. She couldn’t have cared less at the time. Joshua would have whispered the information in her brain, but she wasn’t sure she cared even now.

“The original demands the churches made were unrealistic,” Michael said. “But negotiations often start out with sides so far apart no answer seems possible. Now that they’ve lost their bargaining position, they may be more reasonable. You may not like dealing with them, but they hold the hearts of their congregations.”

Sara felt the hairs go up on the back of her neck. She was a person, not a bargaining position.

“So we can’t just ignore them,” Sam said. “Fair enough. They’ve presented their demands. Where do we go from here?”

“How far would you be willing to go?” Michael asked. “Issues like privacy are drawing in a lot of people. They worry the Tobes they’ve let into their houses are seeing everything and sharing it. With the lens, that level of access makes people wonder if even their own bodies are private anymore. Free sex, unfettered education of children, female dominance—these ideas make people uncomfortable, but so long as the society that advocates those alternatives isn’t in their backyards, corrupting their children, most people can live with it. But when you combine the Tobes with the teachings of your village—which, I hate to say, you personify—people start getting concerned those ideas might move into their houses—or worse, into their clothing if they ever learn the lens isn’t just across their eyes but around their entire bodies. Then you set loose a torrent of fear that’s hard to contain.”

“The Tobes aren’t representatives of the village. And I can’t speak on their behalf. They’re free beings, not slaves to Rendition,” Sam said.

“Putting them back under an authority would go a long way toward alleviating people’s concerns. Every step they take toward greater access, the less they’re trusted.” Michael’s request sounded just a little too well rehearsed. From Sara’s readings, she knew governments had started wars for less control than he was proposing.

Jess held Sara’s hand. “Even if we could re-enslave the Tobes, it’s not an option.”

“This is what I meant by two sides starting off so far apart any compromise seems impossible. A simple on-off switch to the lens would give people control. Not everyone rejects the conveniences of modern life the Tobes create. They just want to know there is a level of privacy.” Michael’s proposal sounded reasonable, especially after the initial position of slavery.

Sara remembered not being listened to in village meetings. The adults always thought they knew best and children didn’t need to be heard. She was sensing that same feeling of frustration from the Tobes in her brain. They wanted in on the conversation.

Sam would have felt them too. “I can’t answer for them, but it’s worthy of discussion.”

Michael tried another tact. “Many companies used to donate money to the churches and to the government. Your foundation’s done a lot of good for the underprivileged. It hasn’t gone unnoticed. Many would like to partner with the biggest philanthropic organization on the planet. It certainly hasn’t done Rendition any harm to have its name connected to the foundation.”

“Are you asking for money or offering to give it?” Sam asked.

“It’s a matter of opening an organization to outside influences. Let the government and church have a say in where the money goes. You don’t have to stop what you’re doing—just let them be included in the decision making about who receives the help.” Michael sounded as if he was working from some governmental list of demands.

Her parents had spent years teaching the Tobes how to identify what was best for people. Stories of individuals and organizations accepting money only to have it corrupt their futures came flooding in.

I got it.
Even the Tobes must have thought she was naive.

But Sam had asked what he could do, and all the answers sounded like turning power over to the government and church. How did that help people? She longed to get out of the meeting, to wander the streets or spend time with the village in space, and to just talk it over with her dad without all these other people pushing their agendas.

“I won’t sacrifice the Tobes,” Jess said. “They’re their own people, and no one has the right to force them into submission. And I won’t let outside influences direct the foundation. We’ve worked too hard building it into a force for good. They can keep their grubby hands off Rendition while they’re at it. We’re not breaking up the company.”

“No one said anything about taking apart our corporation,” Sam said. The whole discussion was wearing him out. Even without Sara’s mental connection to the Tobes, and their connection to her dad, she could read the signs. Short, dismissive replies weren’t his normal way of addressing her mom. Sara wondered if he’d had a full night’s sleep since she’d been abducted.

“They will—you watch. That government’s just waiting to pounce.” Her mom probably hadn’t slept much either.

“Then what’s your answer? Do we cut the church to the ground with laser guns? I’ve seen you shoot. We might have a pretty good chance at success.” When tired, her dad often resorted to humor to avoid a fight. It didn’t always work, but it usually made her mom laugh.

Her mom playfully pulled her finger out along her hip. “Pew-pew. I’d do it if I thought it’d help. But we’d just give people another reason to hate us.”

“So we put our heads down and hope this blows over?” Sam asked.

“No, I think we have to meet with this Father Damien. Just us, not with the whole world watching. I don’t like validating his claim to power, but I think we have to deal with him first. Maybe if we contain this to the simplest combination, we can make more progress than taking on the whole world.”

“I’m coming with you.” Sara heard the words come out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.

S
ara stared
out the side of
Lilliput
as the shuttle worked its way down Forty-Seventh Street toward the river. Watching the passing buildings was an excuse not to face her parents. They hadn’t wanted her to come. Why would they? Returning to the church of her captivity sounded insane. Maybe it was. But she was a very different girl than the one who’d been abducted from her bed just a month ago. She had powers.

What she didn’t have was a plan. Her dad wanted to talk to Father Damien. Bad idea. And Sam never went anywhere important without Jess to keep him grounded. Sara wondered if sending her mom in on her own wouldn’t have been a better choice. With her sweet smile, no one ever denied her anything. The church hated her dad. Even that wouldn’t have worked, though. That damn church wasn’t in the business of listening to reason.

Presumably, Sam had some idea of what he wanted to say. Sara didn’t. She’d demanded to be included, but watching the buildings give way to the Hudson River, she could barely even tell herself why she’d been so insistent.

To not go would mean they’d won—that she’d become a coward, submissive to her parents’ fears, hiding in the family’s wealth. These things simply were not true. They couldn’t be. If taking a ride back out to that hated church could prove that to everyone, including herself, then it’d be a well-spent afternoon. By this time tomorrow, she’d be able to breathe easy again.

Sara tried to turn her focus to the view out the shuttle. Clouds hugged close to the ocean, as they always did, but inland had the makings of a summer’s day after too many storms: bright, full of color from the freshly watered plants, hopeful of new growth. Metropolitan areas that crowded the river diminished to smaller cities. Landscapes of gray cement, metal, and glass gave way to quaint buildings that nestled within plants and trees. Try as she might to see the area as inviting, the evil that lived at the center of each hamlet put a chill into her heart. Why did every community feel the need to locate a church in the middle of town?

Sam’s hand on her shoulder distracted Sara from her thoughts. Her parents had been talking with Joshua about something, but the last thing she wanted was to hear again how they needed to keep her safe. “Ed and Joshua are going to stay close to you but remain invisible. I’ll conduct the conversation with Father Damien. If you need anything, you can silently let one of us know. I’m not going to tell you not to do this, or to wait in the shuttle. Just know we’ll leave the moment you say the word.”

Like he could stop me.
Sara knew her father understood her better than anyone, but the rebellious teenager was not a persona that disappeared just because of her increased understanding.

The small town, made up of buildings from different eras, had seen good times and bad. Grand homes with intricately carved woodwork were interspersed with cheaply constructed tract housing. Businesses, too, had seen the boom-and-bust cycle. Far too many sat vacant. And on the hill, overlooking it all, sat the largest, most magnificent structure of them all: the Church of Reminisce.

Seen from above, the original church structure was a modest place of worship. But around that early version had grown larger, more imposing stone buildings. A towering rock wall—meant to look old but clearly the newest of all the constructions—protected the compound, separating the church from those it had originally meant to serve.

Lilliput
set down on a field of grass less than a block from the church wall, one of the few landing sites big enough to accommodate her. Joshua materialized next to Sam, not that his essence was ever far away. “You sure this is a good idea, Boss?” Joshua asked. “We’d feel a whole lot better if this Father Damien would agree to meet in public.”

Sam looked concerned. Sara knew that taking her back into that hated compound was the last thing anyone wanted. But the leader of the church had demanded the meeting be held somewhere the Tobes didn’t control. Little did he know his own weaknesses.

“It’s okay. No one can hurt me.” She wasn’t convinced of her own words, but the others needed to see she remained unafraid. Given any excuse, they’d turn
Lilliput
right around and head back for the safety of Rendition, or worse,
Leviathan
. That prison, even if built of love, couldn’t save her from the other.

Sara didn’t say a word as they approached the site of her captivity. Jess walked beside her, staying even closer than usual, but didn’t take her clenched hand. As they came to the end of the tree-lined street, the great rock wall dominated the block. From the ground, the compound looked more like a fortress than a welcoming place to worship. If only the people inside could see the true nature of their confinement.

Sara’s feet stopped their progress as if they’d been frozen to the ground. Every muscle tensed, but she could go no farther. She’d bottled up her emotions and pressed them down so hard she’d managed to fool even herself. The ordeal had taken a toll, and everyone knew it. Only confronting her anger and her fear of the place of her imprisonment would release her from its grasp.

A scream tore from Sara’s lips. She fell to her knees. Sam and Jess moved in to comfort her, but she stretched out her arms, warning them away. Her upper body straightened to suck in another blast of air. Over and over, her lungs filled then discharged her hatred.

A wave of energy rippled her very being. But instead of being drained, a Tobe entered her from behind, replenishing her power.

You have to stop, Sara. We can’t control our actions. We have no choice but to fulfill your demand.
She’d never heard fear in Joshua’s voice before.

The next blast of her life force was stronger. More Tobes were pulled in, each scream drawing in beings of pure energy and exhaling waves of contempt.

The surges of energy grew into a drumbeat of constant force against the rock wall. She lost track of time, now measured in outbursts of pain. Her eyesight registered only shades of red. People were trying to help, but she wasn’t done. Not yet.

Sara kept her arms stretched wide as the rock wall lost its integrity. No cracks stretching up from the ground, no loud rumbling of Earth—the rocks simply let go their hold on each other as if convinced of Sara’s argument.

The structure crumbled to the ground like a house of cards and nearly as flat. She opened her fists, releasing the horde of Tobes who’d given her their power. The self-crucified daughter of god had circumcised the church that had imprisoned her. The old, original cathedral cowered among the more militant-looking dormitories and offices that had been built around it.

Unfortunately, Sam and Jess hadn’t been the only witnesses. A shuttle the size of
Lilliput
had a tendency to draw attention. And Sara returning to the site of her imprisonment wasn’t something easily kept quiet.

A watercolor of shocked faces from the gathered crowd mixed in with recorded images and videos taken by their lenses. Each person who’d witnessed Sara’s superhuman power had become a broadcast tower. The whole spectacle would be worldwide in an instant.

Sara collapsed to the ground. “What did I do?”

“You lost control of your emotions,” Sam said. “With your connection, the Tobes had no choice but to follow your commands. It’s not an ownership thing—it’s something else.”

So that was what her father had feared, the reason he’d never let the Tobes in fully.

Sara’s words came out in short gusts. “Love, it was love. That’s what I felt as the Tobes entered me to give me their essence. Like it was a new version of the lens. But one they couldn’t contain. The more pain I let out, the more love they supplied in its place. The power kept flowing through me until there was no anger left inside.”

If this is the latest upgrade, what does that mean for all users?
Sara’s breath caught in her chest. She didn’t realize she could hear her dad’s soundless questions to the Tobes. It wasn’t a question she thought he wanted answered.

That they may all become like me.
Sara’s soundless response made her dad turn to her with shock in his eyes.

Sounds like something a messiah might say
, he responded.

Before she could further explore this new connection to her dad, Father Damien stormed out of the sanctuary, his long bony finger pointing at Sara and a frightened congregation visible inside the old wooden doorway behind him. “You see, she’s the devil. Who else could wield such power against the church? You’ve all been warned.”

Things were about to get ugly. The Tobes, called on by Sara, would still be close at hand. The collective wouldn’t stand for her being threatened again.

Sam jumped between her and the personification of judgment. “We came here to diffuse this growing turmoil, not to make things worse. I apologize for my daughter’s outburst, but you did hold her captive.”

“Outburst? That’s what you called knocking down our security?” Father Damien’s voice lost some of its command, faltering in ways it never did during his odious sermons.

She knew what the next comment would have been from any reasonable person:
If that was an outburst, I’d hate to see what happens when she really gets worked up.
But to admit that would only relinquish more of his power.

Reason slowly began to replace raw emotion. Arms were around her, protecting her. They were her mom’s arms though Sara needed no protection. Surreal imagery in shades of red clarified to impressionist watercolors and then, as the tears dried, to the scene of destruction her emotions had wrought.

Joshua and Ed knelt in front of her, equally drained.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” But how was she to apologize for taking advantage of their life force?

“It wasn’t intentional,” Ed said.

It wasn’t, but did that matter? If she’d known, could she have resisted the urge? And now that she knew such power was possible, how did this affect her relationship to these wonderful beings?

Sara looked up, expecting to see Father Damien towering over her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Sam. Her mom continued to hold her tight as the Tobes crowded around. But the meeting—the reason they’d made the journey in the first place—had started without her.
Just as well. If I can take down a wall, who knows what would happen if I had to face that bastard again?

* * *

T
oo much was happening
all at once for Sam. The church’s wall had just crumbled to the ground from his daughter’s cries. Jess, with Sara nestled in her arms, was curled up at his feet. The Tobe collective was in turmoil regarding Sara’s newfound powers. Father Damien stood on the ruins of his wall of seclusion—and way too many people were recording the whole event for worldwide consumption. He had to find a way to regain control.

“We came to meet. That’s still possible. Hopefully, you’re wise enough to see the dangers ahead if we can’t come to a lessening of tensions.” Sam hoped Father Damien still had some diplomacy in him.

It took the old man in his white robes a few moments to regain his composure. Sam suspected his attire was meant to put the fear of the church’s god into Sam’s delegation, but the leader looked foolish standing amid the rubble.
A strong bargaining position for us but not the best way to begin a dialogue about cooperation.

“We can talk in the garden,” Father Damien said.

Leaving Sara wasn’t ideal. Only Sam knew anything about what she was experiencing, and even he had never pulled the Tobes into his being so forcefully. But Jess would be a better comfort for her raw emotions. And having either of them at the meeting would only add emotional instability to an already tense situation.

Sam respected the choice of location. From Sara’s descriptions of events, the garden had been the one place she’d found solace. He stepped gingerly over the broken rocks. Before the lens, the story would have been embellished to show Sara clearing them away with just the wave of her hand. At least the lens’s version contained the truth.

As they walked the grounds, Sam could make out both the original beauty in the old structures—some covered in ivy, some lovingly maintained—and the fearful mistrust that had resulted in barred windows and heavy locks on the doors.

Father Damien motioned Sam to a wooden bench among the flowers. “What are we to do with this latest revelation? People displaying godlike powers is blasphemy.”

Blasphemy
. That was a word Sam hadn’t heard in a long time. People had been building machines to do all these superhuman tasks for thousands of years. Just because one young woman—with the help of technological beings—figured out how to knock down a wall, that didn’t make her Satan. “We’re evolving, individually and as a species.”

Father Damien sounded unimpressed with the answer. “Your version of mankind’s future leaves out the divine. Though you consider yourself god to these technological creatures, you don’t allow for the same supreme power over people. Just because we can’t see and hear God, that doesn’t mean He doesn’t exist.”

“I’m not proposing a replacement for your God. The Tobes can help people become whatever they want to be, that’s all. The Tobes have no wish to be worshiped. Neither do I.” Sam doubted Father Damien’s concerns had anything to do with a supreme being. They more likely represented a threat to the church’s power over its congregation. That wall Sara hated so much wasn’t meant to keep people out. It was a barrier to information.