Omegasphere (9 page)

Kurt slowly turned the door knob and pushed the door open.

A man in a white lab coat was hovering over a man in a dentist chair.

The curly hair and graying beard of the man in the chair immediately gave away his identity. It was Miles Cohen. While unconscious, someone was examining him—someone that Kurt knew intuitively did not have Miles’ best interest in mind.

A violent cough erupted from Kurt’s chest, causing the man in the lab coat to whip around. “Who are you?”

Kurt’s instincts took over. Without thinking, he rushed the man. A right hook to the lower mandibular laid him out on the floor as easily as if he had flipped his power switch. It had happened so fast that Kurt stood over his victim barely understanding what he had just done. His conscience, however, was telling him that he had done the right thing.

He turned to Miles, hovering over him. Cathodes were attached to his temples and a digital EKG was measuring his brain activity. The lines were nearly flat. Miles’ brain was still alive, but his mind was gone.

Kurt went over to the sink and filled a paper cup with water. He drank from it, feeling it soothe his throat. He then refilled it and went to stand over the Doctor. He tipped the cup and caused a stream of water to descend onto the forehead of his victim.

The Doctor was jarred awake, but when he tried to sit up, Kurt put his boot to his neck and pinned him to the floor.

“What’s going on?” the Doctor asked.

“What did you do to this man?”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Kurt pushed harder, choking him.

Gasping for breath, the Doctor cried out, “ . . . Okay . . . I’ll tell . . . you.”

Kurt relented, but kept his foot resting on the man’s neck.

The Doctor finally said, “We used electroshock therapy to wipe his mind of the infection, but there are side effects with this procedure. We’ve been successful in eradicating most of the patients of the meme, but the therapy also rids the patients of their cognitive abilities.”

“Why don’t you just kill them? Why are you trying to take away the alien meme?”

“What are you talking about? Alien meme?” the doctor searched Kurt’s face, and then said, “You’ve been infected. You’re delusional. Get your foot off my neck and let me help you. I’ve discovered the right dosage. I can cure you!”

“We’re not sick, you fool,” Kurt said. “Bock is making us sick. And now I see what he’s doing here. He’s bringing people to the island, making them sick so they’ll come to you, and then he’s having you look for a way to extricate the meme so he’ll be the only one infected.”

“No. He wants to help people. There are still a lot of people out there that need our help.”

Kurt stepped on the man’s neck with a violent thrust, choking the bastard. “That hole behind the house. That’s a mass grave, isn’t it?! You’ve been erasing their minds and then euthanizing them!”

Though his face was going from white to blue, the scientist managed: “—We didn't have a choice! They would have died anyway!”

“You idiot!” Kurt released him, but only because he had to turn away to cough. When he was finished, he said, “For fuck's sake, there’s an entire race of people being murdered on this island and you think you’re helping mankind! Ha! Can’t you see this is about power for Richard Bock, plain and simple? What’s his end game?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to scream but not a sound came out. There was only an eek and the sight of his blood framed teeth.

Kurt relented. “Tell me!”

“Bock’s going to send out a pulse that’s going to rid the world of the meme!”

“But how will he protect himself from it?”

“Why would he do that? He wants to cure himself. You must believe me!”

Kurt kicked him in the face and sent him back to sleep.

He went back to the computer in the other room. He remembered Bock mentioning something about a shield that would encompass the island. After a global search on the computer, he found an encrypted file. He hacked it, and there was the evidence he needed. There were blueprints for a shield, one that would only protect against Electromagnetic pulses. The completion date was set for next week.

Another file contained plans to convert a satellite dish into an EMP weapon, able to send out a pulse that would wipe the world of the infection.

Kurt had a decision to make. Because Bock had destroyed the manuscripts, there was no way for it to reach critical mass and infect the entire population. The alien race had intended it for everyone, not to be hoarded, used as a tool to manipulate others, or to give one group some type of superiority. But with all of the manuscripts gone, there was no way to ensure equality.

The only answer was to continue with Bock’s plan to rid the world of it. As far as Kurt was concerned it would be a tragic loss, but if Bock was allowed to continue, to use his superior intelligence to manipulate people and enslave them, in a few years the world would be plagued by death, disease, and poverty. If he acted now, he could stop him.

Kurt had been able to glimpse into the Omegasphere and he was beginning to understand its power and beauty. It was a place where all ideas existed simultaneously outside of time, an infinite well-spring of knowledge that also contained a basic truth about the universe, a truth he was on the verge of understanding. Now he had to give up that amazing discovery.

But the pulse would also cure him of the fatal meme Bock programmed in him, and in the minds of the enhanced humans on the island. If Kurt kept the meme to pursue the truth about the universe, he would be condemning himself and everyone else to death, not to mention allowing Bock to continue with his plans to enslave the world.

And Kurt would be alone. Without love. Without Ursula. What good was super intelligence without her?

He made his decision. He began to reprogram the computer. With a few hours’ work, and using the data the scientist had collected over the past few months, he could use the satellite dish in front of the house to send out the electromagnetic pulse that would erase the meme from the minds of the world.

He programmed the computer to begin a countdown. He would have sent out the pulse immediately, but he needed superior strength and intelligence to get himself and Ursula safely off the island. Hopefully, three hours was long enough.

He stripped the Doctor down to his underwear. He took the binds from Miles’ wrists and used them to restrain the Doctor. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do for his old boss. His mind was gone. Death was inevitable.

Kurt changed into the Doctor’s clothing.

He left the cliff house, got into the golf cart that was parked out front, and drove back toward the resort.

CHAPTER 14

There was a security booth up ahead with only one guard inside it. Kurt prayed the disguise would work. He had to ignore the pain in his body and summon as much cunning as he could. He tucked his chin into the breast of the lab coat to hide his face, and stepped on the accelerator, prepared to break through the wooden arm if the guard didn’t lift it.

“Let me through! It’s an emergency!” Kurt yelled out.

The guard responded to his urgency, doing as commanded by lifting the wooden arm.

Kurt whizzed by the booth, but in the corner of his eye he noticed the guard’s suspicious expression. The guard was expecting to see the Doctor, but he immediately recognized that it wasn’t him. The guard was on the phone before Kurt found him in the rearview mirror.

He drove in to the resort, the cart’s accelerator to the floor. He veered off the path, cut through the lawn, and plowed over the flower beds.

Ursula heard the golf cart outside her room and rushed outside. She gasped when she saw him. He was doubled over the steering wheel.

He slowly got out of the cart and staggered over to her.

She examined him and said, “Is that blood on your shirt?”

“We need to get out of here.”

“Kurt. You’re sick. . . .” she said, her face riddled with pity.

“I’m leaving now. I would like you to come with me. I believe you’re in danger here.”

A truck pulled up next to the golf cart, the breaks locking up on the sandy ground. The dark-skinned man slammed it into park, swung open the door, and came out, gun drawn. Two security guards got out from the passenger side, pointing their pistols at Kurt.

“We have to fight,” Kurt said. “It’s the only way.”

Ursula didn’t look like she was preparing herself to fight. She looked as if she had already given up.

“Get on the ground!” the man commanded.

For Ursula’s sake, Kurt put up his hands in surrender. She was not ready for the truth, not ready to join him, and he couldn’t leave her alone on the island.

Bock’s security detail came at him cautiously, then violently wrestled him to the ground, slamming him face first into the dirt. They wrenched his arms behind his back, hog-tied him, and stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth.

“What are you doing,” Ursula protested. “He’s sick!”

“He breached our security,” the dark-skinned man said. He lifted a radio to his mouth and said, “We got ’em.”

Bock soon arrived in a golf cart.

“What the hell’s going on, Richard?” Ursula demanded.

“Kurt went up to our operations hub and messed around with our computers. I’m not sure we can fix it. A lot of people could be harmed.” Bock got out of the cart and went to take her hand sympathetically. “We’ve dealt with this before. He’s delusional. It’s the final stage of the infection, but we’re going to try to help him.”

“He’s sick, Richard. He didn’t know what he was doing,” Ursula said.

“We just need to make sure the computer gets fixed before anyone gets hurt.”

The security guards lifted Kurt up by the rope securing his wrists to his ankles. Kurt’s scream was muffled by the gag.

“He’ll be fine,” Richard assured her.

They carried Kurt out to the truck and put him in the back.

“I want to come with you,” Ursula insisted, rushing up to the truck.

A security guard held out a hand, gesturing for her to stay put, and then he shut the passenger door on her.

They drove Kurt back up to the cliff house. The two guards took him out of the truck and carried him as painfully as they could into the house, dropping him on the hardwood floor of the living room. They pulled the gag from his mouth and then went to stand guard at the door. Bock and his head of security—he and his angry lapdog, entered and went to sit at the card table.

Bock gestured to the man sitting beside him and said, “This is Payton Jones from Homeland Security. He’s been working with me to help find people like us and bring them to the island.”

Payton saluted sarcastically.

Bock said, “You shouldn’t worry Kurt. The meme will survive. Our race will survive. Scientists recently discovered that Homo sapiens had crossbred with Neanderthals. There’s no reason why we can’t improve our evolutionary line in a similar fashion, with some modern tweaks. After all, not all humans are equal nor are all enhanced humans.”

“Last I checked Neanderthals were extinct,” Kurt said.

“Because Homo sapiens were smarter. Plain and simple. Their increased intelligence allowed them to live longer, to be better hunters, to design proper shelters. And I think we both know where Homo sapiens got their boost in smarts.”

“The meme was intended to reach everyone. It was a gift,” Kurt said.

“Yes. And I don’t intend on squandering that gift by polluting our genetic line with inferior DNA. We can expedite the evolutionary process by harvesting a superior homo genus. Why wait for nature to do in thousands of years what we could do in a laboratory in a few months.”

“The superior genetic line you’re referring to will involve using your DNA, won’t it?”

“For centuries there has been a ruling class. An oligarchy. It’s naive to think that now is any different from any other time in history. Once there were kings, then religious leaders, and now some believe that politicians rule the world; others think it’s corporations. Either way, the time has come for us to rule. Our superior intelligence will make us gods among men. You and I, Kurt, have the responsibility of creating a new world, a better world. To shirk from this responsibility would be a crime.”

“We? If I stick to your diet regimen, I don’t think I’ll be around to enjoy your new world order.”

“We all can’t play the same role. Some of us are martyrs, others are kings.”

“Keeping others from the meme is an abomination and not what the authors of the manuscript had in mind,” Kurt said.

“The authors. Yes, of course. You and a few others have discovered the true authors of the book. An alien race. An alien race that, in their stupidity, released this knowledge into the universe and never suspected that it would be misused.”

Kurt noticed the look of surprise on Payton’s face. This must have been the first he had heard of an alien influence concerning the manuscript. Kurt wondered what else Bock had been keeping from him.

Kurt scoffed and said, “Keeping the meme to yourself will not have good results. You and I both know the truth about the Omegasphere.”

“There’s no
one truth
about the Omegasphere. The truth is whatever we make it.”

“Obviously you haven’t spent much time in the Omegasphere. There’s a universal truth—the one truth . . . the only truth.”

Bock laughed. “Silliness.”

Despite their attempt to hide it, Kurt knew he had piqued Payton's interest.

“There’s no time for this ridiculous banter. You hacked my computers to send out an electromagnetic pulse. Give me the override codes and I will let you go free,” Bock said.

“What about Ursula?” Kurt asked.

“She stays with me.”

“No way.”

Bock gestured to Payton who immediately responded by wielding his side arm. He went over to Kurt and put the barrel to his temple.

“I could always destroy the computer and rebuild it later,” Bock said.

“If you unplug or dismantle that computer, the pulse will be triggered automatically,” Kurt said.

“You’ve got ten seconds to give me those override codes!” Bock shouted.

“You’re nothing without your lies, Bock,” Kurt said. “I bet Payton doesn’t know how you’ve been lying to him. He doesn’t know that you’ve had copies of the manuscript all along, that you didn’t want to share it with him. You could’ve made him as smart as you, but you decided to keep the meme for yourself so you could have power over him.” Kurt turned to Payton and said, “He’s going to enslave you.”

Payton seemed rattled, but not enough to take the gun away from Kurt’s head.

Kurt knew to attack Payton’s pain and arouse his anger. It clung to his emotions like a leash, and it could be redirected at Bock.

Kurt looked into Payton’s face, studying it, going deep into the eyes that were burning like anthracite furnaces, analyzing the micro expressions that revealed his feelings like a collage of resentment. His life’s history was practically written in the premature wrinkles, in the scars, in the deformities. In seconds, Kurt understood him.

Kurt said, “Bock is going to do to you what your father used to do. The way he used to make you feel, useless, powerless, weak. Bock is just like your father.”

Payton was clearly stunned by Kurt’s insight. His expression struggled to conceal the torrent of emotion teeming inside him.

Bock jumped up from the foldout chair. “Don’t listen to him!”

“You and I both know I’m right. How many years did you suffer your father’s abuse? Look what it did to your mother. Bock is going to do the same thing to you. He’s going to become a tyrant over you. He’s going to make you feel inferior. You don’t want the rest of your life to be like your childhood, do you?”

Bock commanded the other guards: “Shoot them! Shoot them both!”

The guards drew their guns, but two shots rang out before they had a chance to use them. Both of the guards fell to the floor with bloody holes in their chests. Payton had been too fast for them.

While Payton began to untie Kurt, Bock went into a roll, snatched up a gun from the hand of a fallen guard, and came up on one knee, firing. He placed a bullet right between Payton’s eyes. Payton dropped like a brick onto the wood floor next to Kurt, now with a bloody third eye as lifeless as the open pair below it.

He pointed the gun at Kurt. “The codes.”

“I’m not going to give them to you. You’re going to have to kill me.”

A girl’s voice said, “Don’t move.”

Dana had gotten to the other guard’s handgun and was pointing it at Bock.

Ursula was standing behind her.

“Listen, little girl,” Bock said, trying to summon his famous charm. “In a few seconds, the computer in the other room is going to send out a pulse that’s going to erase our minds. Is that what you want?”

“What’s going on here?” Ursula asked, seeing three dead men on the floor.

“He murdered my staff!” Bock shouted. “I just managed to get the gun away from him. Please, tie him up before he hurts anyone else!”

“Ursula, you have to believe me,” Kurt pleaded. “I didn’t kill these men. I programmed the computer to send out a pulse that’s going to erase the meme from our minds. It’s going to cure us.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted, Richard,” Ursula asked him.

“He didn’t set it for the right dosage. It’s going to turn us all into vegetables!”

“He’s lying, Ursula.”

“Please, Dana. Give me the gun,” Bock said.

A cell phone went off in Bock’s pocket. Instinctually, he went to silence it. Ursula took the opportunity to snatch the gun from Dana’s hand. She pointed, shut her eyes, and squeezed.

Bock fell to the ground, screaming out in pain. He tossed his gun away, the wound to his leg demanding his full attention. He was trying somewhat futilely to stop the fountain of blood gushing from his thigh. Blood was seeping through his fingers and gathering into a pool on the floor.

“You’re lucky,” Kurt said. “Looks like it went straight through and missed the artery.”

Ursula went to stand over her prey. “Lucky for you I’ve never fired a gun before. I didn’t want a little girl to grow up knowing she had killed someone. I was aiming for your head.”

Bock sighed in agony and shouted, “Idiots!”

Ursula went over to Kurt and embraced him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You really hate cell phones, don’t you?” Kurt said.

“If he was willing to lie about that, he was willing to lie about anything.”

“But what made you come up here?”

“I didn’t believe you about aliens, Kurt. I’m sorry. But I’m in love with you and if there was even a small chance you were telling the truth, I would have never forgiven myself.”

As soon as Ursula finished untying him, Kurt pulled her tightly into him. Suddenly he got a powerful flash, a vision of them together, their children, old age. There were also many books for him to write, and though these works would only be a small influence on the overall complexity of the noosphere, they would be a necessary part of it, and more importantly, they would be works that were uncompromising in their truthfulness.

“What’s the truth, Kurt?” Ursula asked. “Tell me about this truth you claim to have found in the Omegasphere.”

“The truth? It’s simple. We’re all just an idea. Everything is just an idea.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who’s idea?”

Kurt smiled, “Exactly.”

An alarm then rang out from the computer in the other room, and though there was no flash or boom, Kurt suddenly felt a curious sense of loss.