Sentinels of the Cosmos Trilogy (20 page)

“Sit down all of you, you hear me, sit down, you
three guys are truly the three stooges,” Trip shouts.
There’s a short silence and finally Trip sits back in his
chair.
“Trip, we don’t have much time - I’m telling the truth
no matter how weird it sounds,” Juan says.
“Shut up!” Trip growls.
“My wife and kids are in Brooklyn, please, at least let
me get them out,” Juan pleads.
Again there’s a silence while Trip thinks and says,
“Why should we listen to those two Guards? They’re
machines, hey could be saying anything, they're
programmed to do and say whatever they’re told and
believe it.” Trip says.
“These two are different,” Juan says.
“Different, really and you believe a machine, a
toaster, a blender could be different? My smoothie
blender told me this morning that the Chinese are
going to blow up Detroit. Of course my blender is a
great source, are you nuts?” Trip says.
“You have to trust me Trip, please!” Juan pleads.
“Trust you, my trust in you went out the window
when you smashed in these guys heads and ran off
with a couple of robots. Your career is finished I’m
just deciding if I should send you to prison - as a
matter of fact I may be risking my career if I don’t,”
Trip explodes.
“Listen to me. I know these Guards are different,”
Juan says.
“How do you know they’re different?” Trip asks.
“Because I just know!” exclaims Juan.
“Oh well that's impressive, that’s not good enough,
proof, evidence, facts are what we need,” Trip says
emphatically.
“OK, it’s because Sam Nichols was my father!” Juan
says.
Trip is stunned. He sits back in his chair and as Tom
and Harry look at him he says, “Well, well, well the
plot thickens! How did that little detail get past the
bureau?”
“Sam took care of it,” Juan says.
“Sam took care of it? This just gets better and better,
prove it.” Trip says.
“Please Trip, I don’t care what you do to me, but let
me get my family out of there!” Juan pleads. “This
could kill tens of thousands of people. Look I didn’t
have to come in here, I could have just gone right to
Brooklyn, but I felt you needed to know that EOJ is
going to kill a lot of people, and if you or anyone else
gets in their way, they’re going to kill you too! Trip,
the President is a Guard. You have got to believe me.
Those two Guards were reprogrammed by my father,
Sam, before Charles had him killed.”
“Charles Dean, the Speaker of the House, from
Texas?” Trip asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s rich; Congressman Charles Dean is part of
this plot too! You know Charles is a friend of mine. I
know he’s involved with EOJ, but Juan you’re asking
me to stretch my imagination a long way, a very long
way,” Trip says.
“Trip, I’m begging you, please give me a chance to
stop this,” Juan replies.
“Tom, what do you think I should do?” Trip asks.
“I don’t know,” Tom responds despondently.
“Alright, here’s what I an going to do. Juan you’re
suspended and probably finished with the bureau.
Turn in your badge and your gun right now and I’m
not going to send you to prison. You’re under house
arrest until there is a larger investigation. You can get
your family out of Brooklyn, and I’m going to have a
long lunch with Charles Dean.”
“Thanks Trip” Juan says. He takes his badge and gun
and places them on the table in front of Trip.
“You two are going to stay with Juan for the next few
days.”
“Sure,” Harry says, “be glad to.”
Juan goes through the door of his Washington
apartment with Tom and Harry in tow. As he calls
his home phone in Brooklyn, he turns to Tom and
says, “I’ve always kept this little place here in DC.”
Tom looks around the apartment saying, “It’s a dump
Juan.”
As Juan is waiting for his wife to pick up the call,
Harry goes over to Juan, grabs the phone, throws it to
the floor and crushes it with his heel. Juan looks at
Harry and says, “What are you doing?”
“I’m cutting your connection,” Harry says.
“Why?” Juan asks.
“Because I’ve been ordered to,” Harry says.
Tom grabs him from behind and starts to choke him
and just before Juan passes out he stops and drops
him to the floor.
“We’re not supposed to kill him yet,” Harry says.
“You're right, I’m not but I will soon; why not make
my job easier and more satisfying?” Tom says
smiling.
“Good idea, now we don’t even have to tie him up,”
Harry says.
“I’m hungry; let’s see if he has anything good to eat,”
Tom says as he goes into the kitchen.
Charles returns to the room where Sam was being
held still slumped over in the chair. He brings a glass
of water over, offers it to Sam and looking down on
him he says, "I know Juan is your son and has a pretty
little wife and a bunch of kids. Somehow I never
thought of you as either a father or grandfather, well
stupid me. You know they’re right in one of the zip
codes that we plan to expunge."
Sam looks up menacingly and growls, "What kind of
monster are you Charles? Leave them all alone."
Charles smiles "Now you were going to give me all
this important information I’ve been seeking…"
Sam restrains himself," I'll do you one better. I'll
show you, but you’re going to have to let me go."
Charles thinks for a moment, saying, "Does Juan
know you're alive?"
Sam answers, "No."
Charles thinks "Guards," and two Guards come into
the room and stand at attention. Charles says to Sam,
"So let's go, take me to wherever you need to.
Sam asks, "Do we have a deal?"
Charles says, "Yes,” lying of course and Sam
perceived that he lied, but the cat and mouse game
was afoot.
They walked to the elevator at the end of the hall, got
in and Sam reached his hand through the panel and
the elevator started to move down.
"I guess there were a few floors that I didn't know
about," complained Charles.
"Just a few,” Sam says with a smile.
As the elevator doors open there appeared in front of
them a vast room filled with equipment Charles had
never seen before. Actuators, computers with very
large holographic display areas, 3-D organ
regeneration printers and equipment Charles couldn’t
even name. A door at the far end of the room had a
sign that read Klacknels.

Sam pointed towards the door and said, "That's the
room where the magic happens for you."
Charles grumbles, "How come I didn't know anything
about this?"
"Because we didn't want you to," Sam smiles.
"Fair enough," Charles returns, "so what's the
procedure?"
Sam replies, "Klacknels have a different kind of life
technology. Every cell is a live construct with a
unique programing ability. In theory we can build a
Klacknel to have whatever appearance we wish and
transfer an existing human consciousness, along with
its personality as it is into it. Your transferred
consciousness will feel fantastic, and have an almost
unthinkable life-span; however its feelings will be
limited by programming parameters. As a Klacknel
your mind and body will work even better, but you
will still be soulless! Are you sure this is what you
want?" In fact we offered this option to Doris and she
rejected it.
"When can we get started?" Charles asks.
"Soon, very soon," Sam exclaims with a sigh of
sadness.
Chase and Ally are sitting comfortably in first class
seats on American flight 466 to Los Angeles.
“I don’t think we should cut our signals until we get
to L.A.” Ally says.
Chase replies, "It is becoming clearer and clearer that
we have a built-in ability to control our own life form.
We are not yet ‘born’ to our full potential but once
you decide that you no longer wish them to be able to
track you or communicate with you the connection
will
be broken. We're growing up Ally."
They are both silent for a moment and then Chase
continues, “You know I think I can also control other
Guards. I think we can pretty much control anything
or anyone. It’s in the manual, and it’s a different
language. Look in the ‘Kalactin file.’ The way I read
it, we can actually reprogram another Guard if we’re
close enough or perhaps even modify human behavior
for that matter.”
“I found the file and I think I see what you mean,”
Ally says.
“I wonder if we could control the directives of
all
the
Guards.” Chase says, inquisitively.
“I would think so,” Ally says.
“Well it’s more interesting than doing crosswords on
the plane,” Chase says.
“If we’re going to see Beneizen then I think we
should know as much about ourselves as is available
to us. I’m going to read the whole manual,” Ally
proposes.
“I agree, I will also,” Chase says.
“Who programmed our original personalities? They
don’t make any sense as they are; can we change
them at will?” Ally asks.
“I don’t think our personalities are real, they appear to
be made up. Humans are not free to choose who they
are, but I think
we
can choose. I think we can treat our
personalities like pieces of music and change the
piece any time we wish. I’m sure Beneizen can help
us with the right way to deal with these questions,”
Chase says.
“I don’t think we should have left Juan, I don’t think
we should have left knowing those EOJ objectives
like we do,” Ally says.
“You mean the Manhattan project?” Chase asks.
“Yes!” Ally says.
“Juan will blow the whistle on the whole project,”
Chase says.
“I guess so, in fact I hope so,” Ally says, “but my
intuition tells me something is wrong, and I believe
his phone is off line”
“Your woman’s intuition?” Chase asks.
“That’s right,” Ally says.
“I don’t know anything about it,” Chase says.
“You’re a jerk, you know that,” and she swings her
fist to sock him in the arm but it disappears before the
blow can take place.
Chase sits back in his seat and brings all of his
attention to the whole of himself. It’s was as though
he lit a lamp inside a dark room. He saw his mind, his
emotions and his body as three separate and distinctly
different parts each with its own ‘brain,’ each
performing tasks from moment to moment but with
very little communication between them. He just sits
watching, waiting and curious, fascinated. As he
waits quietly a new order begins to appear. All three
of his parts begin to communicate with each other in
another code, a unique language. What could only be
described as his awareness became a tool for
searching in room after room of these different parts
of his inner self. As he deepens his search that very
fine energy again begins to appear; a unique inner
light that unites everything, as he becomes quieter
and quieter he discovers more and more. He opens
like a flower responding to the sun and begins to
understand this unique language, a language not of
this earth, a way of understanding everything at once.
In that moment Chase knew who he was and it wasn’t
a robot, a human or a Guard. He took in this new
impression of ‘himself’ to new dimensions, new
universes. He took Ally’s hand and the love poured
through his body into hers. They were paired forever.
He looked at her and her eyes blazed with
understanding.

Ed was fat, really fat all 450 lbs. of him and Hank
was thin. As a matter of fact Ed was so fat he couldn’t
get out of the truck once he was stuffed into the cab
without a great deal of help. Ed had those
Scandinavian genes. He should have failed the
physical exam from Big East Trucking but he didn’t
and still was able to keep driving despite his obesity.
Hank did all the negotiations and work while Ed just
sat in the cab with his enormous belly pressing
against the steering wheel. Ed drove the large truck
into the parking lot where Ivan and two Guards stood
waiting. To them it was just another pickup and
delivery.
“You’re late!” Ivan says.
“Sorry! Traffic! In what bay do you want us?” Hank
asks.
“Bay one,” Ivan says.
Ivan is dressed in a gray lab coat and today is sporting
a drooping mustache and holding a clipboard with a
bill of lading attached. The manufacturer of the
envelopes was a small company in the Midwest, and
the virus had been applied in Virginia at EOJ. Ivan
had the envelopes delivered from there to a storage
facility in the Hunt’s Point area of the South Bronx, a
sprawling complex with thousands of warehouses,
large and small companies - a great place to get lost.
Ivan didn’t want any connection with Virginia or
EOJ, so he rented this facility and had the envelopes
delivered there. Another small obscure trucking
company would pick up the envelopes and deliver
them to the Electric Company. Ed and Hank’s small
service would fit the bill.
If it was tracked at all the virus would be tracked back
to this rented storage facility. The virus was his own
design. Ivan was not going to use the inferior
American virus, he was going to use the superior
Russian virus he called ‘The Ivan.’ He wanted
Charles to know that he wasn’t just a superior killer
he was also a successful scientist. His virus didn't
need an app to starting killing people, it killed quickly
as soon as a person touched, licked or smelled it.
None of that tricky stuff Sam had come up with. He
didn't care if it caused political catastrophe. That was
America problem. He also knew Charles would enjoy
the challenge of fixing the political fallout. Actually
Ivan was a biological geneticist who just happened to
be in the military. He never knew why he was picked
for this assignment by President Chenkeroff. He had
never even met the man. He was a Stalinist and even
though Stalin had killed his entire family he actually
believed that Stalin did it for the good of the
motherland. He was horrified that Khrushchev had
vilified Stalin. Ivan was older than people thought; he
was actually almost 70, but looked 50, partly due to
his healthy lifestyle, but also because he had made a
few genetic discoveries experimenting on himself.
Ivan really wanted to go home. He loved Russia.
America was too stressful for him and he hated
speaking English.
“OK, Thanks!” Hank replies as he signals Big Ed to
park in Bay one.
Ed brings the truck in and Hank gets out and opens
the back.
“Is your friend going to help load the truck?” Ivan
asks.
“Nope, Ed drives, that’s what he does!” Hank says.
“I drive,” Ed yells out of the truck cab.
When Hank sees the skids of boxes he asks, “So what
are we hauling?”
Ivan does not like questions but answers, “Envelopes
for Zerizon, New York Electric,”
“Smells weird,” Hank says.
“It does?” Ivan asks.
“Yeah, it smells like a bucket of fried chicken,” Hank
says.
“Strange, maybe factory had fried chicken picnic,”
Ivan replies with some annoyance.
“Where are you from? I noticed you have an accent,”
Hank asks.
“You ask lot of questions,” Ivan comments sharply.
“Oh, sorry,” Hank says.
Ivan finds a small pallet loader, gets in, starts it up
and slams the blades under the wooden pallet. He
cranks it up off the ground and drags the pallet into
the truck.
Hank asks, “You’re from Russia, aren’t you? I’m real
good at guessing accents.”