Immortality (74 page)

He continued walking and quietly receiving until the thoughts stopped coming. It was almost as if a radio he was listening to was drifting off station or maybe something inside him had slowly stemmed the flow. Most of the people had been unreadable or simply not sending; he didn’t know which. Of the people that were sending, some projected clear strands of thought while other gave off little more than soft unintelligible blurs. Wisps of understandable thought were rare and each was unique, but there was a common theme. The thoughts were brimming with fear of death and aggression toward him. There was a potential of violence in some of these people. They viewed him as a threat to their already shaky future. It was ironic to Mark that they felt violence toward one of the few people able to do something about that very future they feared losing.

As Mark walked into Carl’s office suite, he saw a Marine standing at attention blocking the door to Carl’s private office; two other Marines had been out in the hall. The soldier saluted but did not move out of the way. He was a big man with the hash-marks of a sergeant. He was in dress uniform and armed. There was an earphone from a walkie-talkie in his ear.

“Is there a problem?” asked Mark.

“No problem, sir. There’s a meeting in progress and I have been ordered to secure the door. It should be over soon.”

“A meeting with who?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

Mark was curious. He sat down in a chair in the outer office and waited. Carl’s secretary was not at her desk and probably would never be again. The soldier directed his stare back to the entranceway. After a minute, the soldier took a piece of candy wrapped in cellophane from a bowl and popped it in his mouth. He dropped the empty wrapper next to the bowl, where several other wrappers were already in a scattered pile. As Mark stared at the insignia and other military ribbons and patches, his mind drifted off. He thought about the military and its predisposition to solving things with blunt force. Aggression was why the military was created and what it was very good at, but that power needed tempering by people of all different backgrounds. He wanted the government to try for peace; the generals wanted to use nuclear weapons. He looked at the soldier. The man stared back at him for a moment and then looked away.

Mark wished he understood the user interface better. He wished he could use the machine’s functions to help him convince the government to partially surrender. He was not learning the interface quickly enough. All the evidence he could present was secondhand and disputable, but rushing into what he was exploring, in order to collect better evidence, was more than dangerous. There was a remote possibility he could instigate a kill zone or worse. Early this morning, he’d tried a new program for which he believed he’d clearly identified its function. When invoked, the program seemed to do nothing – and that terrified him. Hours later, he was still worried and waiting to find out something silent and terrible had happened. He should have been more careful. There were risks in trying any command, but what alternative did he have? He didn’t believe the program he’d tried this morning was broken. This was a machine with near unlimited power. There was no doubt the program had performed some task… and this meant he had no idea what he’d done.

Mark took out his cell phone PDA and opened a bookmarked webpage. It was a news story he’d found earlier while doing searches using the words ‘militia’ and ‘Alexander.’ The story was a short piece covering several gangs, who according to the author were doing as much damage as the plague in some parts of the country. The story included a militia group that called themselves ‘I64.’ They had heavy weapons and armored vehicles; the description read more like a small army. The group was lead by a charismatic paramilitary named Alexander ‘No Last Name.’ Distinguishing marks were a dragon and dagger tattoo on his wrist. He was rumored to be immune to kill zones. Alexander was wanted for one hundred twenty counts of murder committed during an attack on a Virginia State Police barracks on December 24th. He was also wanted in other states on similar charges with similar body counts. Mark had doubted whether Sarah was right about being hunted. This news story was enough proof for him that she was unfortunately probably very right – and very prescient. The news report didn’t completely prove that she was being hunted or that this militia was headed their way, but it was now a much smaller leap of faith to believe that part of her story. He now feared she was also going to be right about her insistence they leave the CDC as soon as possible.

After fifteen minutes, Carl’s office door opened to reveal two high ranking officers inside. There was a smell of expensive cigar smoke and voices in casual banter. Mark did not recognize either of the officers but could tell from the insignia one was a general. When Carl saw him waiting, there was a momentary look of guilt; then, a smile replaced it. Carl motioned for him to wait a second. Mark sat back in the chair realizing he was not going to be introduced. The sergeant was at full attention. A cellophane candy wrapper inconspicuously fluttered from his fingers to the floor.

Without warning, Mark felt a sharp pain in his temples. He fought to conceal it. He closed his eyes to block the pain and found himself perceiving the world through the senses of someone unknown to him. The man was giving a speech. A huge mob of armed fighters was in front of him packing the inside of a hall. All the windows were broken. A smoky light was shining in. There was a smell of dried leaves. Mark saw religious icons – this had been a church of some kind. He felt a fervor surrounding the man, like a halo of menace. This was not a man of religion; this was a charismatic leader of soldiers. As Mark listened, the man spoke with clarity and obvious intelligence. There was a political cadence to his speech. With each sentence, he was raising the energy and inciting action.

“We have grown in power,” roared the man. “We are the ultimate weapon. You are the ultimate weapon!”

There was an odd shift in perspective as the leader continued his oration. Mark felt almost as if the room was revolving around him. As the motion came to a stop, he sensed the man was now staring back at him. Mark felt exposed. A distinct feeling of hate radiated from the man’s core, leaving no doubt for Mark that his telepathic invasion had been discovered.

“Traitors!” shouted the man. “You have unleashed this plague. You have slaughtered the people. We will never forget. We will never forgive. We will never give up!”

Mark knew from the man’s emotions that these words were meant as much for the telepathic intruder as they were for the fighters. A series of the man’s memories flowed into Mark’s mind. He saw a long column of armor clattering down a roadway. He saw powerful weapons firing on a National Guard base and quick victory. He saw death and ruin all around him. The mental slideshow of military conquests continued with the speech. A Goliath in army camouflage jumped up on the platform and lifted one of the leader’s arms in the air, fist clasped in fist. Mark heard the crowd shout the leader’s name, “Alexander!” Mark was stunned. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. With total clarity, he now understood everything. This was the soldier who was hunting them. Sarah had been right! Maybe the time was approaching when the world would turn against them. The perception winked out.

“Mark, are you alright?” asked Kathy.

Mark saw Kathy kneeling beside him. Carl was standing next to her. Somehow, he had ended up lying on the floor. They were in Carl’s outer office. Both of them looked worried. Carl had his cell phone in his hand and appeared like he was calling for help.

“I’m fine,” said Mark as he sat up on his elbows.

“For a moment you were unconscious and showing signs of severe brain damage,” said Kathy. “No involuntary pupil response, nothing… then you’re back. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m okay, please don’t worry.”

Mark felt mentally disoriented but was not about to admit it. The incident had been in many ways like a data-flood except instead of data, the flood was implanted memories from Alexander’s life. Similar to the timeline historical records, there had been some kind of time compression of human events. A transmission which contained the entire incident was received as a whole, and then relived as real experiences at an accelerated rate. The entire process from start to finish had occurred in an instant. Now, minutes later, the implanted-experiences felt more like memories of something he’d done on a prior day. It was very bewildering trying to integrate the two different life experiences into one.

Mark noticed the officers and sergeant were no longer in the room. The spaces they’d occupied were empty and seemed strangely unused. Had they been there at all? Maybe they were also implanted memories? He looked at the table next to where the sergeant had been standing and saw a small pile of cellophane wrappers. They had been real. He felt like he was not fully back into this world and that half his awareness was still in that distant church. Memories of his actual experiences and machine implanted memories seemed interchangeable. He was having trouble distinguishing his reality from Alexander’s. He felt that at any moment he could shut his eyes and find himself back inside Alexander’s skin.

The meeting had been going for almost two hours. Mark took a sip of overly hot black coffee. He was listening to Kathy’s medical assessment of Sarah. The disorientation he’d felt from being inside Alexander’s mind had dissipated but a mild insecurity lingered. It was like waking from a nightmare and then wondering if he was still dreaming and something worse was about to happen. He’d told no one about the experience.

During the meeting, Mark’s train of thought had been repeatedly helped by nanotech
assists
. The interface was sending him a greater amount of superimposed visuals and small involuntary data-floods. Most of the
assists
were relevant. The interface had learned how to serve him better by more accurately anticipating his needs. There also seemed to be more English appearing in place of the runic language. At the same time that the interface was adapting to Mark, he was acclimating to the pain which accompanied the small data-floods. What had been severe pain had now become more like a chronic headache that could almost be ignored. The questioning by Carl and Kathy could not be ignored and was beginning to tax him. They would ask and he would either know the answer or an
assist
would present enough information so that he could take a stab at it.

“Sarah can no longer eat any animal products,” said Kathy. “There’s no medical explanation. She’s developing the same as you did, going through the same stages; but the duration and sequence appear to be different.”

An
assist
flooded him… “The differences in her development are because of different aptitudes,” said Mark. “I have an aptitude for directing and requesting data-floods, while she has an aptitude for picking up life experiences and feelings that have been sent out across the god-machine’s web. Basically, I get more stored scientific data while she gets more people data. This makes perfect sense. I’m a scientist. I deal with logic and data. She’s a cop. She works with intuition and hunches. She’s been able to perceive other people’s experiences long before now, and possibly her entire life. For me, this morning was the very first time I was able to receive stray thoughts that were directed at me.”

“You’re able to read thoughts!” said Carl. “This is incredible.”

“It’s not like that,” said Mark. “It’s not mind-reading; it’s more like tuning in to what people are sending out intentionally or subconsciously, kind of like mental e-mail containing a free association. If an internal dialog is ongoing in someone’s mind, I can’t perceive it unless it gets into the subconscious, where the thought-interface operates. Leaking unintentional subconscious broadcasts are like muttering under your breath at someone when they may or may not be close enough to hear. What counts are: loudness, proximity, and how badly your id wants that person to overhear you.”

“Are you getting subconscious mutterings from people all the time?” asked Kathy. She was shifting in her seat and having a hard time with eye contact.

“It’s rare. I get very little, and it’s only from some people. I really think it has to be intentional and focused, even if only subconscious wish fulfillment. If you want to know what I’m getting right now from you, the answer is nothing. Most people, including you and Carl, just don’t seem to transmit; or at least that’s my limited experience.”

The meeting was over. Carl had unlocked the door. They were all standing. A shaft of sunlight was shining through a window and out into the next room. Dust motes were moving in the light. Mark wondered if there were nanotech seeds in the dust. The carpet in the outer office was brightly illuminated. Mark stared at the spot where the officers had stood. He could almost see outlines of their footprints. Was the image from an
assist
? An implanted memory blinked into his thoughts. The memory was clear for a moment; then, gone and irretrievable. It had happened so fleetingly yet the experience left him with a strong unexplainable impression the officers were a threat.

“Carl, can I ask you a question?” said Mark.

“Shoot.”

“What did the army brass want?”

“You know I can’t talk about national security.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” said Mark. “In a few weeks there may not be much national security left. If it’s something I need to know, you should spill the beans. I’ve spilled mine.”

Carl took a deep breath. He looked sheepish.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “It’s nothing. I get this kind of garbage all the time. They were asking about you and Sarah. Some folks at the Pentagon think you two might be a security risk. They’re worried you’ve been taken over by the machine and have become spies.”

“What!” said Kathy.

“It’s just pentagon ‘stupid-think’ that’s going nowhere fast,” said Carl. “I’m confident the senior staff doesn’t believe it.”

“I had a feeling they were here about us,” said Mark. “Sarah said something the other day, and at first I didn’t believe her; but since then, I’ve started to change my mind. She said a time is coming when almost everyone will turn against us.”