System Seven (37 page)

The crime lord
straightened, a last effort at dignity.

“I will share with you
their request – no, their command, and what it means to my country. To many
countries.”

• • •

The nurse at the HCU
desk smiled as Anki and Austin approached hand in hand. “You found her.”

Austin nodded back.
“Yes, yes, thank you.”

They entered Mr.
Harutaka’s room and took their seats. He quietly explained the big feeling and
asked if she could sense anything.

“Besides how it makes
you feel, no.”

The cell phone at his
side rang. He answered. A rushed Constance said, “Airplane about to hit
hospital, ICU side. There’s a stairwell down the hall. Get down and out.”

He pulled her into the
hallway. “Go down now, as fast as you can. Get down and out of the hospital,
now. Now!”

She tried to protest
so he propelled her towards the door with invisible force. She hit the door
hard enough to open it. “Go, god damn it! Go!” With a frightened look, she disappeared down the stairs.

The feeling of
big
pummeled him as he jogged past the
Oshitama guard at the elevators. The impression suddenly made sense – it was
something big
about to happen
. He
rounded the corner to the ICU ward. Two SAT units pulled their weapons on him
and commanded him to stop. Already nervous nurses ducked into patient rooms to
hide.

He pointed at the
windows and shouted, “Plane! Kamikaze!”

Visible beyond the
nearby buildings, the Boeing 747 leveled out from a dive with its tail pitched
at an angle. Dark exhaust contrails plumbed from straining engines. It was
lined up and headed for the hospital.

He saturated the group
mind with the knowledge of impending impact. Shouting erupted and people ran.
The SAT units held position until fear won out and they fled as well.

He walked to the
window where the big feeling rooted him to the spot. Flashes of peripheral
movement threatened to steal focus; what looked like faces, ghoulish forms. The
plane. Impact – ten seconds? As in the office, time slowed, the grid sprawling
out before him. Memory of the general’s attack in the forest clearing came.
Mug’s daring handling of the thrown pole became an inspiration. Outside, seen
between buildings, a murky river flowed.

Scale. It’s just fucking scale
. He extended into the grid, felt the
big
feeling there, the sheer potential
like a mountain landslide waiting release. He reached the plane and knew it was
too huge, moving with too much momentum to affect... directly. There was only
one option and he took it, forming intention and tapping the immense potential
like a spike into a glass wall.

The grid responded in
a flash of change. A roar erupted as the air sucked away from the hospital,
accelerating and cooling in a turbulent stream towards the jet. The sudden flow
grew stronger, spinning off mini-tornadoes as it mixed with the humid summer
air. He fed it until it seemed it might take on a force of its own, as if
nature had been awakened and joined in. The massive movement created a howling
whine with undertones of rumbling thunder. Patients cried out. The floor
swayed. For a staggering moment it seemed the flow was too strong, like it
might damage the building itself.

The 747’s nose cone
crumpled when it encountered the wall of wind. Its sheet metal body crinkled
and folded as rapid deceleration stressed holding bolts. Cargo shifted
violently to impact the weakened framework and split open the fuselage.
Torrential winds sheared compressor blades to create explosive catastrophic
engine failures. The wings deformed and rent open, spilling fuel into the air
that ignited with the engine fires. The resulting fireball slewed into a stream
taken away in the wind.

Like a fire
extinguisher emptying its charge, he felt the extreme drain and dimming of
consciousness. A headache bloomed, threatening focus. He pressed both hands
against the window and channeled the pain as best he could, leaning into the
effort. As he’d seen Mug do to the incoming pole, he used the wind to direct
the ravaged remains of the aircraft towards the river below. The twisted
fuselage clipped the corner of a building on its downward arc. Impact in the
river threw a tremendous wave into the air while debris rained down. A
trunk-sized piece of cargo crashed onto a nearby bridge. Cars swerved and
collided.

The howling abruptly
subsided and he crumpled to the floor, barely able to breathe. Consciousness
dipped and returned, accompanied by the pain in his skull. He laid on his back,
unsure if he’d taken it too far. Flatline tones sounded from multiple monitors
in the ICU. His heart slowed, as if confused. It seemed fitting that he might
also die. Sunlight streamed against his face, warming his skin and somehow
anchoring him in the moment. The big feeling had gone but death had taken its
place nearby.

“How–?”

He looked up at the
voice. Mrs. Sakuma stood with a single guard at her side.

• • •

A portable generator
rumbled from a municipal utility van parked next to the high school a block
from St. Luke’s. Inside, four technicians dressed as workers sat at laptops
wired to an improvised and complex piece of electronics. Thick bare wires ran
up the walls of the van and snaked across the ceiling, held in place by spot
cement and twisty ties. They’d been in the area five hours, already exceeding
the safe limits for presence, but were unwilling to give up. They were too
close.

“Another fragment!
Solid hit with that sequence. Open the parameters for it and shut down the
others. Apply resequencing mime on all inherited nodes.”

A technician worked
the console furiously. “Done.”

Thousands of tiny bars
in red began turning green, one by one.
Sequencing matches!

“Oh God...”

The matching turned
into a cascade as the new algorithms began exponential returns. In seconds, the
sequence was complete, the screen filled with green.

“We’ve got a stream!”

The assembled audio
playback kicked in.

“–threat. Probably worse.
It’s your call. If you’re going ahead with it, I want time to clear out of the
city.”

“Acknowledged. Begin
moving your units to regress points. Assume the protocol will be used.”

Soaring high on their
success, the four resisted cheering aloud and instead scrambled to save the
settings. They’d tapped the Comannda’s communications layer using techniques
proposed by the Bootstrap project team. The possibility became greater that
similar techniques might work on the net, as well. The breakthrough overshadowed
anything else in the moment. One technician patted the device, proudly saying,
“Enigma has nothing on you, Booty.”

The team leader
climbed into the driver’s seat to get them moving back to the lab. The
intercept content sounded ominous and needed immediate relay.

“Keep scanning in the
test range. There’s bound to be more.”

• • •

Three cars and an hour
later, Austin stepped into the living room of a residence in the Meguroku ward,
southwest of central Tokyo for a surprise meeting with Constance. He wore a new
face and clothing.

She bowed and offered
congratulations, her new regard of him apparent. “I am glad you are okay. You
are something special, no?”

He bowed in greeting.
“How did it go with Sakuma?”

“A success.” Her
answer was subdued. Something suppressed.

“And my traveling
companion?”

“She is returning home
already.”

“Ah, I see. Maybe you
can catch me up?” At her look, he added, “I mean tell me about Sakuma’s
interview.”

She didn’t respond
immediately. Instead, she led him to a sofa facing windows with a view of the
urban park alongside the house. Women walked while children pushed scooters on
the paths.

“There’s a problem,”
he said.

She nodded. “The
mission succeeded but the information gained is not available. I am unable to
brief you. You must leave Tokyo immediately.”

Not allowed to brief.
“I nearly died today and now I’m supposed to wait half a day to learn what
threatens the world?”

Her appeasing look did
nothing to soothe disappointment, nor did her offered flow of sensual meta, a
combination of formal apology and intense desire. Beneath it all she tried but
failed to hide urgency and fear.

He stood. “If it’s
that bad, maybe I don’t want to know.”

Neither the sun nor death can be looked at with a steady eye.

- Francois De La Rochefoucauld, 1613-1680, French classical
writer

The surface of the
loch caught the last rays of a setting sun and danced them against hills
blushed green in the height of spring. In the center of the loch a circular
stage floated, detailed with twelve majestic chairs. Each chair sat with its
rear legs up against the edge and was separated from its neighbors by twelve
feet. In each chair sat an Executive.

Fitted in a gray
Italian suit, Bastion stood and walked to the center of the circle. He spoke with
a magnified voice found only in dreams.

“As you have just
heard, Gaulic interference is at levels without precedence. They would have us
believe the Bohemian legends have some kind of truth to them.”

Ganzai, fifth Son of
Pablo in the southern realms of the Americas, cleared his throat.

“Is it possible
they’ve learned to combine their benders?”

Bastion shook his
head. “There was only one. Cameras confirmed that. He had to be carried out,
suggesting a tremendous effort.”

Maria de Oro, Sequence
Three of Grecian Royalty, suggested the priests may have achieved the feat in
stealth. “Volgograd is close to achieving combining. If the priests have
already succeeded, we need to know. I recommend we go back to investigate
further. The hospital staff will have received stray impressions. We can learn
more from them.”

Bastion turned to
Maria. “And thereby prevent J86 execution for Tokyo? Your veiled philanthropy
is duly noted.”

In the distance, a
large serpentine figure launched from the water. Its shadow blocked the sun’s
rays before it fell back with a great splash. Bastion paced the platform. He
pulled a cigarette case from his jacket and prepared to smoke.

“Oh please,” Maria
said. “Either they have the most powerful telekinetic in history or they’ve
learned to combine their benders. We need to know which is the case. And no, I
don’t think J86 for the world’s most populated city is at all appropriate for
the situation.” She looked around the circle. “Do any of you?”

Bastion stopped pacing
and faced Maria. “They need to know how stupid they are for playing the
prophecy game. The Conflict they dream of will cost them dearly. We establish
that now.”

“I’ve an idea,” Ganzai
said. “If it is just one gifted man, and frankly I suspect it is this Austin
fellow, then lure him in. Use the girl’s core as bait. If he eludes us, then
use J86. One lost city should get them in line again. Tokyo’s the largest but
I’d hate to see all that lost. Pick another – Toronto or Hanoi or Johannesburg.
Follow with threats of more. They will have to cave. They simply must.”

Some nodded their
approval.

Maria said, “If they
believe they have their Change, they won’t cave. They will press forward to
their destiny.”

“Then they press into
death.” Bastion flashed memory of
Nagasaki and Hiroshima. “
We
are in
control, Maria. Destiny is
ours
to
make, not theirs.”

Nora Brennan, the
quiet patroness of Eastern lands, rose a thin voice. “What about A2?” she
asked. “Peter Brusse. He stole Cathbad and Austin from Shang’s own dream
and
held us at bay from the yakuza
boss.”

“Surprise accounts for
the former, poor coordination for the latter. I have no doubt that we’ll take
him down. Oscar, what work has been done to identify Peter Brusse?”

Overseer, following
the proceedings via Bastion’s neural linkage, checked the logs.

“
G3 processed DNA
recovered from Den Helder multilaterally against international police, prison,
military, and medical databases. No matches were found and no further
processing was requested.
”

“Why no record for
him?” Nora asked. “Or has Oscar been breached?”

Overseer responded. “
The DNA sample has not
been fully processed against G1’s Gaul roster.
”

“What?” Bastion
demanded. “What do you mean ‘not fully processed’? That’s the first database to
check!”

“
The default query for
that database contains an exclusion filter for deceased members having died
more than twenty years ago.
”

Bastion caught his
rising anger. Instead he forced a sigh and stared directly into the orange sun
resting on the hills. Large black sun spots bloomed on its surface, dimming its
rays.

“Determine the origin
of the filter, then run the query without it.” He turned to Maria. “Another
example, no? If this continues, I’ll have Oscar expand and run it all.”

“Who’s to say it
wasn’t Oscar’s fault?” she asked.

As if waiting for the
remark, Overseer responded.

“
The exclusion filter
was created six years ago and has been utilized periodically by various
directors. The most recent application was ordered on April 22nd, 2015, by
Director Henley. This director was terminated May 3rd, 2015, after the
Coalition Incident.
”

“Henley, yes. And no
one removed the filter since? Delete it and allow no restrictions on that
database without my approval.”

“
Acknowledged. The
query returned one match. Peter Brusse is Gerrit Bartel, son of Vincent and
Juliana Bartel. His parents were trainers for the Gaulics and specialized in
mind-body attunement and dream control. Their mortification was scheduled for
and executed on September 12, 1978. The boy was pre-Initiate and allowed to
live. He was raised by his grandparents outside the Runa Korda and disappeared
ten years later. Records of Gerrit’s birth are absent from all public databases
for unknown reasons. He has avoided documentation since.
”

“That explains some of
it,” Bastion said. “I want him captured or dead. Focus on drawing Austin in, as
well. I want him alive. If anyone comes up with ideas better than Ganzai’s, let
me know immediately. In the meantime, pay close attention and keep your guards
in place. Anything more?”

Cormac raised a
question. “Overseer bypassed CoreOps in suggesting the system-wide detection of
the controller. Should we be concerned? Or have new protocols been adopted?”

Bastion nodded.
“Neuristics is looking into it. No need for concern. The safeguards allow for
rollback of the AI at any juncture. Now, anything else? No? Then we adjourn. Thank you.”

One by one the
Executives winked out of existence. As always, Maria de Oro was the last to
share the dream with him.

“So quick to use
violence, Bastion. You must know others see that as a weakness. A sign of
unmanaged fear.”

A ring of lights in
the platform began to glow in the gathering dusk. Orchestral music rose from
the waters around them.

He walked over to her.
“You’re mistaken, Maria. It is simply impatience, not fear. Their impetuousness
must be addressed. I see benefit in destruction where you do not.”

“Oh I understand the
benefits, but I also understand moderation. Too often, you don’t.”

He stared into her
eyes. “Moderation. How far from that to reconciliation? To sharing control?”

Maria shook her head.
The implication that she would advocate sharing control with the druids was a
dangerous one. Though brilliant, he was not without delusions – delusions that
seemed to be growing in size and frequency.

“Asset management, Bastion,
has absolutely nothing to do with treason.” She held his gaze firmly. “Killing
Tokyo is wasteful and dilutes control. It is balance we seek, remember? Focus
on the targets and use force wisely. That is the proper response.”

He slowly nodded
before walking the circular platform. “We’ll use the AGTs. Austin’s capture and
our study of him will resolve the issue.”

“And this dream
maestro?”

He waved dismissively.
“We saw this in the girl, remember? He is as inexperienced as she and just as
distracted. More so, perhaps. I detect quite an ego. I’ve already received the
after action on the Shang incident. Foster’s group says they’ve broken it down
and are on top of his technique. We wait for his next move and then lynch him.
With a horde if need be.”

“Something tells me
start
with the horde.” She looked away,
across the now murky water to the hills. Shadows stole their color, a precursor
of the darkness to come.

• • •

Existence would end
the way she thought it might. Inevitably and simply. Under the motionless sun,
lying on the heat-baked sand and dead palm leaves, the blackness would
eventually converge on the shores of the little turd of an island. Once her
refuge from the searchers, it would become her dying place. Sadness for the
little boy surpassed that for herself.

Introduced shortly
before the trap at the forest clearing, she and the boy had connected
immediately. His fear and longing for home mirrored her own. She’d already lost
so much of herself to General Shang and didn’t want him to suffer the same.
When the chance came, she’d taken it, shearing from the dream. He’d hung to her
side at every subsequent jump, through every scene, adapting as fast as she
had. Despite not having spoken a single word, he remained with her, trusting in
her every move.

What small sense of
reality she retained seemed artifact now as she stared at the black clouds
looming. Ten miles out? It had begun as a blurring of the horizon, slowly
growing into a storm approaching from all sides. With it came a sense of
endlessness, a palpable sensation pervading the dream. Ryota had stared and
stared, his little eyes seeming to read more from the clouds than she could.
The one glance he gave her before retreating to the palms conveyed only
sadness. Changing again was pointless and he knew it, too. The black wall of
clouds was meant to make them run. She felt the trap, felt their certainty.
Running would only give them pleasure, some kind of benefit.

Lying on her back, she
squinted into the blue, ignoring the tempest bearing down. The sun shimmered
with a familiarity born of years under its gaze. It wasn’t hard to forgive its
punishing rays because of the reminder of home it offered. The island itself,
though, had become a symbol of her desolation, of the end. For the millionth
time, doubts about breaking away from Austin resounded. Too rash? Hurt or
helped him? Had it paid off? Was he safe? Knowing she’d saved him would mean
everything.

Instead, there was too
much room for doubt. Time was nearly gone. In its place the endlessness grew,
an indistinct and troubling perception. The next shift would be a leap into the
blackness, into whatever ending neared. She closed her eyes.

Time.

Tears formed, hot with
regret. She hadn’t had
time
.