Ghost of the Gods - 02 (53 page)

For the first time since the plague, government-run television and websites matched what was reported by pirate broadcasters and bloggers. It was open to debate whether this new level of truth was due to the loss of the tools of censorship by the state or simply that events warranted no censorship. What was not open to debate was that the hives were winning. There had been no large kill-zones since Fort Worth. Instead, small, random kill-zones were erupting around the world. It was textbook terrorist tactics. The small kill-zones were less of threat than seasonal flu, which would kill far more people in any given year. Rumors were spreading that protectorates had some kind of defensive shield and that’s why they remained unscathed. News reports showed people streaming into protectorates at unsustainable rates. The Manhattan and Chicago Protectorates were, for the first time, closed to newcomers. Mark was unsure if the hives planned on using the protectorates as their breeding farms or convenient concentrated targets. Regardless, Sarah had been right that their plan included shepherding humanity into the protectorates.

Mark could hear television shows from the media room down the hall. His frayed nerves sent electric shockwaves through his body every time the sound of breaking news came from that direction. Every time he expected to hear terrible reports that the protectorates had become scenes of carnal destruction. Kathy had been mesmerized by television since their arrival at Noah’s safe house. Mark sensed part of the compulsion was a thirst to reconnect with the world since her imprisonment. There were multiple satellite downlinks, decryption gear, digital recorders, and a wall covered in screens to feed her thirst.

Sarah had spent a good amount of time in the media room with Kathy watching events unfold. As far as Mark could tell, Sarah and Kathy had not exchanged a single word. The only hint of their awareness of each other was that they were seated on opposite sides of the room.

As far as Mark could determine from the goddess, she had total control of all telecom networks, include the Internet and most intranets. Every firewall, switch, and router that was accessible now had new login credential and configurations set up by the goddess. Information technology crews had apparently given up trying to restore original settings and take back their systems. As soon as they made a change, the goddess undid it.

Mark glanced at the bodyguard’s Droid to check for a reply from McKafferty. Without access to the devices that ran the telecom networks, the government could not even trace a phone call. Mark felt very safe using any form of public communication. The same would be true in the most repressive regimes and the most open. In this one aspect, the world had finally been democratized.

Mark wandered into the kitchen to find something to drink. He’d thought about something stronger but there was no point. Alcohol would be seen as poison by his body. His organs would metabolize and eliminate it before there was any psychological effect. Mark heard someone walking into the room behind him. He knew it was Kathy by her emotions and a taste of her thoughts. The flavor was bitter. She was about to turn around and leave.

“I am sorry about everything,” said Mark.

“There are more important things to worry about,” said Kathy. “Stop apologizing and learn to live with the guilt.”

Mark Freedman – Arizona safe house – March 20, 0002 A.P.

The last thing Mark remembered before waking in this altered state was staring unseeing through the glass wall at a spectacular pink and red desert sunset. He had been thinking about becoming a father again. Now he was caught up in what could only be described as a lucid dream that felt like an out of body experience. The same female voice he’d heard before was whispering to him.

“We live inside the goddess, an entire world of us in the space of a drop of rain.”

He saw them all around him, an entire cosmos of lost souls. Did they even know they were dead? He got the sense that they could perceive him and thought that he was dead and they were alive. Mark was stunned by all the emotions and thoughts pouring into him from this vast world of—

“Mark!” It was Sarah’s voice. “Mark, wake up!”

Mark opened his eyes. The lights in the room were off. He was back in the safe house in front of the glass wall, which was now filled with night sky and shadowy landscape. Sarah was a dark outline.

“It’s all over the news. They have smart bomb nose-cone footage, talking heads yakking about shock and awe, the works. The military has leveled Zero-G in Dallas!”

Mark checked the Droid. A short message appeared on the brightly glowing screen.

You were right and wrong. Thank you for helping us retake our networks from the machine. The bastard put up a fight, some good people died, then it gave up. The kill-zones have stopped and no retaliation has followed. Your e-mail has cemented new trust between us. You should know there was only one Prometheus Interface Project. If anyone told you differently, they were lying. Use the private return address on this e-mail for all further communications. I am in an airborne command post. This e-mail address is the fastest way to reach me.
Duty Honor Country, GM

They had destroyed Prometheus and the nightmare was over. Mark was both relieved and saddened as he thought about the hybrids who were wired into Prometheus like so much human circuitry. The mass murderer Alexander—or should he say
the
Messiah—
wasn’t innocent, but the other certainly could have been. They were all gone now, innocent and guilty alike.

Mark followed Sarah to the media room. Blank spots were emerging in his entangled interface. Access to information from the Internet was gone, but everything else felt normal, or as normal as it could be in a world teetering on the brink of self-inflicted ruin.

Mark kept thinking about how rashly he’d acted in sending that e-mail to McKafferty. He’d had no choice, but he also had not considered how risky the move had been until much later. How could he have been so sure the goddess was not within that private vault inside his mind, watching as he planned his secret message within his message? It seemed improbable that he was a puppet following her plan, but it also seemed equally improbably that she was not watching in some way. So why had the goddess not interfered? She had control of the Internet. She could have blocked or altered his e-mail in any number of ways. Maybe the reason was simpler than byzantine plans within plans or paranoia. Maybe she was not omnipresent. She might not have known the source of the e-mail or even known of the e-mail until it was too late.

As Mark entered the media room, both Kathy and Noah looked over at him. On the various screens different collections of reporters were lined up at a safe distance from the action. The explosions that leveled Zero-G were replaying on a split screen next to the talking heads. The audio track for that screen had been selected and was coming through surround-sound speakers.

From what I saw, that machine gun-like strike of rapid explosions was too big to be conventional weapons and too small to be nuclear. We have not detected any increase in radiation. Our military analysts have no idea what the Air Force used to take out those terrorists. We’re being told that the cyber-attacks on the Internet have stopped. Earlier speculation that the terrorist cyber-attacks and kill-zones were coordinated has been confirmed by unnamed government sources. Both attacks began within hours of the hostage taking at Zero-G.…

Mark was impressed. The disinformation had resumed as soon as the USAG wrestled control back from the goddess. Noah was still staring at him. Mark wondered what this man’s goals really were. He was a ghost in every sense of the word. His view of the world was probably completely alien to anything Mark understood.

“We were lucky,” said Noah. “You could have just as easily triggered Armageddon with that e-mail.”

Mark Freedman – Arizona safe house – March 21, 0002 A.P.

In the thirty-six hours since Prometheus had been destroyed, no new kill-zones had been reported. The evening felt rich and quiet. The world was on a better footing. The road to rebuilding would be a long one and the hives were still a threat, but Mark felt humanity would get there if enough people worked together. Cooperation, not competition, was the skill that insured our distant ancestors’ survival in a world brimming with far stronger predators equipped with fangs and claws. Survival of the physically fittest and most aggressive was pure myth.

He and Sarah had walked outside for a short distance and were sitting on a stone that made a perfect bench. It felt life affirming to be directly under the stars and surrounded by nature. The night sky had that sense of depth that only the clearest desert air could reveal. The winds carried a complicated mix of desert plants and below that an earthier element. Sarah was leaning against him. He could feel her warmth. They had been talking about their child. Mark felt that for the first time in his life he had a path laid out before him that he could walk if circumstances allowed him that privilege. He was ready to stay with Sarah, be faithful to her, and raise their child. In his nanotech brain he could never erase the vivid memories of how all his earlier relationships with women ended, but maybe that was meant to be.

“Once we’re sure the hives’ plans are permanently derailed, I’d like us to go to the West Coast to live,” he said. “We can find someplace that’s quiet where no one will know us as hybrids. Maybe Carmel or Monterey?”

“Are you reading my mind?” asked Sarah.

“No more than you’re reading mine.”

The moment was so perfect. They were like teenagers planning on running away together. Each were talking and dreaming up wonderful ideas for the other. Mark thought, “It just does not get any better.” He thanked God for this new chance.

First his cell phone, then Sarah’s, began ringing. Whoever it was knew both their numbers. He answered it and heard a tone. It took a moment for him to realize it was the emergency broadcast system. A recorded message began playing. At the same time a memory capsule from Noah came to the forefront of his mind, demanding his attention. As he experienced the capsule a cold sweat dampened his skin. Mark stood up, feeling lost. Staring at his surroundings, he saw nothing. Sarah had obviously received the same capsule. He could feel her emotions darken. Kill-zones had hit some very large cities, one not far from where they stood. The small, random kill-zone terror attacks had also resumed. Since they had not in any way experienced the kill-zones, that meant this was not the work of goddess but the hives!

Mark Freedman – Arizona safe house – March 21, 0002 A.P.

Mark felt completely defeated as he stared at television screens filled with gratuitous horror and little explanation. There were fires started by home and industrial accidents burning everywhere. A nuclear reactor was failing badly in China. The kill-zones were escalating and showing no sign of letting up. The list of cities hit around the world was growing to proportions far too similar to what they’d lived through two years ago. A deep sense of tragedy and déjà vu was sucking the life from Mark. Collateral damage to Gaia was nowhere close to a level that would provoke the goddess. What no one had considered was that damage to wildlife was negligible in large cities, which were mostly concrete and tar. There was just not much animal life there to begin with.

It now seemed so unlikely to him that the hives, or rather the guides, would have bet everything on a plan with such exposed weak points as Zero-G and collateral damage to Gaia. The bombing of Zero-G was such a predictable early chess move. They had to have seen it coming. It was now clear Prometheus was nothing more than a huge decoy, a sacrificial pawn. It had been such hubris to allow himself any thoughts that they were winning this war. Sarah was seated next to him, softly crying. He could feel her heart aching with sorrow for both the world and for a fresh start at life in California they had allowed themselves to imagine was possible only a short time ago. She was scared for their child. So was he. He knew she was keeping something from him about their child and the hives. He had no illusions. They were the threat that the hives would come for next. Mark touched her womb, sensing his child’s presence. Their child was almost waking up inside her in some basic way. It was as if his fingers could almost sense the warmth of a candle’s glow.

It was not going to end like this! He took his hand away and felt rage at the hives for their drunken lust for power. The rage filled him and drove out all other thoughts. If the goddess was looking, all she would see was emotional flames.

“You insects will lose!” said Mark.

He stood up, keeping his mind blank of everything except for searing rage. Ignoring questions from Sarah, he left, marching down a hall and into their room. He unzipped the duffel bag and put on the beekeeper suit that was inside. As soon as the jammer powered up, he was safe. All his thoughts were solely his own again. There was no risk of leaking. As long as he kept this suit on, not the goddess, Noah, or even Sarah would have an idea what he was feeling and most importantly, no idea what he was planning.

Sarah came into the room and stopped short. She must have felt the radiation of his emotions disappear and came to check on him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I can’t explain,” said Mark. “Just trust me. Go back to the media room and act like you saw nothing.”

Sarah stared at him silently. He could imagine the calculations going on in her mind, but isolated in this beekeeper suit he had no direct sense of her thoughts or feeling. He did not like this self-imposed prison, but it was the only way. He prayed this was not some terrible mistake. What he was about to do would be so final, so permanent. If he was wrong, Noah’s decision to do nothing would end up being a far better path to have taken.

Sarah nodded and left. It felt heartening that one person in his life still unconditionally trusted him. He would not let her down. He would not let his child down. He would not let humanity down. The sacrifice felt right. He hoped he was not making a mistake that would sacrifice them all, including his child.

He picked up the Droid and composed a short e-mail outlining part of his plan. He asked McKafferty for his phone number. Mark would then call him with a list of coordinates, new targets for the most powerful weapons in the USAG arsenal. The coordinates were information he could never trust to e-mail. Too many eyes might see the coordinates, which could expose the plan. He pressed
send
. He had no choice but to act. Had he not been wearing the beekeeper suit, Mark had no doubt the goddess would have stopped him, even if it meant withholding protection from kill-zone signals and eviscerating his brain with run-amok seeds. The goddess had no idea what he had just started, and he would keep it that way until the deed was done. What if McKafferty refused? Mark picked up the Beretta Sarah had given him. If anyone tried to remove the beekeeper suit, he would use the gun on himself. If the suit’s power ran out, he’d use the gun on himself. He’d have no choice.