Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (2 page)

Before opening the stairwell door, he pressed a nodule behind his ear, randomizing his projected facial features. Gresson took off his wet overcoat and hung it over the stairwell railing. After smoothing out the suit he had been wearing underneath, he opened the door and stepped into the research department of Gimbal Systems Inc.

Inside roamed many scientists, most wearing lab coats. In the center of the floor was a giant glass-walled laboratory, surrounded on all sides by a wide hallway. Opposite the lab, the walls were lined with offices. Gresson calmly began to walk, keeping an eye out for the office of Mr. Johnson. He passed many others in the hallway, but none gave him a second glance.

Soon he arrived at Mr. Johnson's office. The door read, "Thomas Johnson - Associate Director of Energy Research."
Very prestigious,
Gresson assumed. He noticed the ID scanner on the door, as expected, and pulled out his computer. One click later, the door handle turned.

Gresson stepped inside and shut the door. The lights came on automatically and he collected his robot from the door handle. He walked across the room and sat down at the desk. A holographic computer monitor flashed on.
No security
, Gresson muttered, now surprised Mr. Johnson had become Associate Director of anything. He managed to quickly gain access to a database that included all the on-site research projects. After a bit of scrolling, Gresson found what he wanted.
Project Blackout. Stored in room 19B on the 34th floor. Just two floors up.

Gresson shut off the computer and left the office. As he began to walk down the hallway, he looked over at the glass laboratory. He froze. The old man from the lobby had looked over at him at the same time. They both stared at each other for several long moments. Then the old man looked down, shook his head, and returned to work.

Gresson swallowed hard and started walking again. He was glad he had reset his mask projector. It had apparently been just enough to break the old man's recognition. He only made it a few more steps before his gaze met with another's. But this time it was quite different.

Within the lab stood a dark-haired, blue-eyed man wearing a lab coat, yet he seemed out of place. among all the other scientists hustling about, this man stood still. He stared directly at Gresson. There was certainty in his eyes. Recognition. A keen curiosity.

Fear trickled down Gresson's spine. He waited for the man to say something or to get others' attention. But he did not. He didn't move at all, not even a blink. He simply... observed.

The locked stares between these two men seemed to last hours to Gresson. There was something striking about this man. Some mystical energy behind his bright blue eyes and piercing stare. Gresson began to feel less threatened and more curious.
Who is he?

Suddenly aware that he had not moved for several seconds, Gresson turned his gaze and hastened his pace to the stairwell. Though seemingly impossible, he was certain that the man knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. But he decided to put the man out of his mind. He had not said anything yet, and Gresson hoped it would stay that way.

Gresson arrived at the stairwell. Once there, he went up two flights and walked onto the 34th floor.

There was far less glass on this floor. It contained a maze of hallways and a vast series of storage rooms. Only a few people walked in the halls.

Gresson began his search for room 19B. The rooms next to him were in the 60s, so he followed the numbers in descending order. He rounded a corner when he reached the 30s and continued walking.

A jolt hit his cheek. The prototype was failing once again. Someone farther down the hallway walking toward him gave a curious look. Gresson pretended to rub his forehead, trying to cover his face. The projector held up long enough to not raise any more suspicion as the person passed by, but soon after another jolt shocked Gresson's face, this time causing searing pain in his right eye. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

He grunted as the prototype shocked him again. He used a knuckle to prod the base of it behind his right ear, but it only made things worse. Another jolt hit his face, this time undoubtedly burning skin.

Gresson angrily tore off the two pieces behind his ears and the mesh they connected to that covered his face. He threw the prototype on the ground and slid down to the floor with his back against the wall. Sitting there, he looked both ways down the hallway. He was lucky. Nobody had seen him yet. He touched below his right eye and found blood on his fingers. He could still see, but there was still a dull pain that ran across his face.

After a few seconds, Gresson stood back up. He had come this far and time was running out.

He no longer made any attempt to remain anonymous. It would be pointless with his true face in full view. He began to run in the direction of room 19B.
25. 24. 23. 22.
Gresson saw a group of people turn the corner in front of him. Several of them let out gasps. Gresson did not know if it was because they recognized him, saw the blood on his face, or were surprised by his fast pace, nor did he care.

Gresson arrived at room 19B. He tried the door, but it was locked. He raised a leg and kicked down the door. He ignored more gasps from down the hall. On a lone table sat Project Blackout. But Gresson froze when he saw it was only half of the machine he needed and the rest was missing. "No," he said in disbelief and slammed his fist against the table.

Next to the concave imprint his fist had made laid a large computer tablet displaying research notes. Gresson picked it up and skimmed through them until he found the most recent project update. The project had been modified last week and moved yesterday to a site in Charleston, South Carolina. The update had been overseen by someone named "Michael Case." Gresson knew Project Blackout would now be worthless, even if he had it, without Mr. Case.

There was a computer monitor on the wall of the room. Gresson moved over to it, ignoring the group of concerned people gathering in the doorway.

"Are you alright?" a man from the group asked. Gresson gave no reply and once again searched for the information he needed. Within seconds he had the personnel files for Michael Case. He downloaded the home address and left the computer.

When he turned toward the open door, the small group shuddered. They stepped out of Gresson's way as he left the room and began to run back to the stairwell. He made his way down the stairs as quickly as he could. On his way down, he grabbed his overcoat.

An alarm began to blare through the building. After Gresson was down a few more floors, he heard security guards burst in far below. He was at the 24th floor. He made his way down to the 21st, taking several stairs with each stride, smashed through the door, and ran to an office on the back side of the building while putting on his coat.

Gresson broke down the office door and looked through the office window to the roof of the adjacent apartment building. Without a second thought, he pulled out his gun and fired into the window until it shattered. The strong wind from outside nearly knocked him off balance.

He stepped back to the doorway just as he heard security run onto the floor from the stairwell. With a hand on each side of the doorframe, Gresson braced himself. He pulled forward and raced across the office room toward the missing windowpane.

The cold air and rain hit his face as he flew directly over where he had made his previous jump. Gresson's feet landed just on the railing of the fire escape and he collapsed onto the landing. He took just enough time to catch his breath before making his way down. As he hit the ground, he could hear the security guards shooting down at him from one of the broken windows.

Gresson ran down the alley till he reached the street. He tossed his mini-comp, robot, and watch in a trashcan, then hailed a cab and jumped inside. When asked for his destination, he gave the home address of Michael Case.

Chapter 2

Gimbal Systems Headquarters, NYC - August 3, 2072

One hour before Alexander Gresson made his escape in a New York City cab, Adam Case pulled back his hood over his wavy blonde hair as he stepped into the headquarters of Gimbal Systems Inc. He paid no attention to the lone man sitting on the couch in the waiting area, a man who had just minutes ago identified himself as Mr. Winchester. Adam walked up to the receptionist. "Hey Mindy. How are you doing?"

"Adam, it's good to see you! Here for your dad, I assume?" Mindy replied.

Adam nodded. Mindy reached under the counter and pulled out a guest pass. Adam had interned under his father for the past six months, ever since he turned 18. Company policy still made "guest" designation mandatory whenever he was there after his work hours, however. The guest pass, along with every employee nametag, contained a tracker, allowing the company to know where the wearer was at all times. Within the past decade, numerous new measures to improve company security had been implemented, though most employees found them more annoying than anything else.

Adam put the guest pass around his neck. Adam thanked Mindy and made his way to the security checkpoint. The guard eyed his pass, nodded for him to step through the body scanner, and finally motioned for him to go ahead once the scanner showed no anomalies.

Once at the elevators, Adam pressed the "up" button. Seconds later, an elevator arrived and out stepped an unhappy looking old man.

"Mr. Yeager," Adam said as he passed.

The old man looked up, having just recognized Adam. "Oh, hello Adam."

"How are you doing?"

"Eh, being distracted from my work," Mr. Yeager said with a shrug.

"Hopefully not for too long," Adam said as he pressed the button for the 33rd floor.

As the doors began to close, Mr. Yeager scoffed and replied, "Hopefully not," as he headed toward the lobby.

The elevator soon arrived at the 33rd floor. It was one of the five research floors in the building, besides the basement level where larger projects were handled. For the most part, only short-term, small-scale, or nearly finished projects were dealt with at Gimbal Systems' Manhattan headquarters. All others were handled at one of the many other sites Gimbal Systems owned across the country.

Adam walked down the hall until he reached his father's office. He knocked on the door.

Adam's father, Michael, was the lead researcher for any new projects in the New York Branch of Gimbal Systems. Michael was well respected at Gimbal, where he had worked for 20 years. His innovative thinking had allowed him to advance quickly through the ranks. He was now in the prime of his career, working on the most cutting edge technology in the world. Adam couldn't help but try to follow in his father's footsteps.

Michael answered his office door and motioned for Adam to come in. Michael was a short man, only 5' 5'', and nearly 190 pounds. Athleticism had never been his strong suit, much unlike his built son. Michael had short black hair and green eyes that matched his son's.

"Anyone figure out what was up with that bullet-proof material yet?" Adam asked. He was allowed to aid one project at a time with his internship and had recently started working with a new clothing material that was intended to be extremely resistant, even to point-blank gunshots. Ironically, the material had begun to flake during preliminary tests.

"Nothing yet. I'm still assuming temperature's a factor," Michael said.

The father and son continued to discuss the project for a few minutes. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Michael unlocked it and in walked his wife, Alice.

Alice Case was the Operations Manager at Gimbal Systems New York. She was younger than her husband, but had been working at the company even longer. She had earned a coveted management job immediately after her college graduation. She met her husband through the company soon after he had taken a research position. They were engaged only a little more than a year later. She was a tall and slender women, with straight blonde hair and brown eyes. She was an aggressive businesswoman whose advancement at Gimbal paralleled her husband's.

"Ready to go, boys?" she asked.

Michael and Adam nodded and the three of them left the office and headed for the elevator. They rode down to the garage level, walked over to the family's black luxury sedan, and got in. Michael told the car to take them home, and it made its way out onto the street.

There were few cars on the roads. Most inner-city transport was handled by friction-less underground trains, supplemented by the remaining several bus routes and a single subway line. Private vehicles were a commodity few urban dwellers bothered to own and the efficient widespread public transport system had dramatically decreased the number of commuters over the past decade. Pedestrian traffic, however, had become the new debacle for city engineers.

"So did you hear about that brain transplant guy?" Adam asked. "Saw online just a bit ago that the operation was a success. He's already moving around in the new body."

Alice replied, "Yeah, I saw that too. So he has robot limbs, a mix of artificial and naturally transplanted organs, and his own eyes and brain?" She shook her head. "Too weird."

Michael said, "Sounds more like some kind of science experiment, rather than an actual medical procedure to me."

Adam and Alice nodded their heads. "The doctors just wanted to show off," Alice said. "No way a whole-body transplant was necessary."

"I think it was just to be in the history books," Adam said. His parents nodded in agreement.

"So besides creepy robot-human surgeries, what's new in the world?" Michael asked as he brought up an internet display on the car's dashboard. The screen showed a few advertisements on the side, one for a new fried snack, one for lunar vacations, and one for a financial advice service. In the middle of the screen, a virtual anchor was providing the news highlights.

"...plans for the trans-Atlantic tunnel have been finalized and the digging is set to begin next month."

"The typically internet-based conflict caused by Omnireq Corporation's so-called 'declaration of independence' from the United States three months ago resulted in offline violence earlier today as several Digital Security Bureau buildings were the targets of arson. President Reyes offered a public statement this afternoon, saying that, quote, 'The fun and games are now over. This preposterous child's play has now demonstrated its danger to our great nation. Justice will be delivered swiftly,' end of quote."