LIKE OTHER MINISTERS AT the table, Sara was beginning to sense Ron might follow-through on his bombast this time. He had blustered and raged his way through many crises in her years with him, but she could not recall circumstances like this. Ron in a bunker. Southern troop movements at border points. Reports of virulent agents being spread across the domain. Impending conflict between Southern and Bolivar that could easily spill into Vista and Westrich.
She also knew Imp was monitoring everything about them and feeding the information in real-time to Ron. Imp used room sensors to collect sweat and scents emitted by their bodies. Cameras could detect slight movements like the raising of neck hairs and sweat on the nose and armpits. Imp possessed an extensive database that could perfectly interpret facial and body motions, how much of what was being spoken was truth versus lies, when they were bullshitting, and whether they agreed or disagreed with Ron or others. Imp also was the most accurate at sensing thoughts and predicting actions.
Except for a few places in the compound, Sara assumed every thought was an open book, given Imp’s ability to assess and predict all aspects of their behavior. Despite this capability, the participants at the table pretended Imp was not that good, as if they could like, hate, politic, and rationalize without these emotions and intentions being recorded and analyzed.
Humans were generally incapable of gathering this information themselves due to subtleties that caused them doubts. Was that last glance one of approval or disapproval? Was that move of the hand to the face a result of a headache or disgust? No person could accurately determine such attributes of human intention. But Imp could.
Ron flipped the full-body projection to focus only on his face. Sara could tell it was being modified by Imp – no imperfections, no large pores, and perfect symmetry in facial features.
“Why the fuck does he continue to do this?” she wondered.
“Are you worried about me, Sara?” he chided.
In the moment, she lamented that she had not cleared her mind. Imp was picking her up, whether through facial sensor tech or via its ability to sense and interpret the energy from her brain.
“Why should I worry, sir? I’m only here to execute at your command.”
“Oh,” he laughed, “poor choice of words! Right now, you’d be advised to stay away from words I might be thinking about you, like ‘execute’ and such. You’re not on my happy list, girl. Of course, neither is my fish friend Ed-gar. You both screwed up with your comms plans, and don’t deny it! Given the extensive access to data resources I so graciously provide, both of you should have taken a second of your valuable time to consider the implications. If you had done your jobs properly, you’d have known better than to stir the pot between Southern and Bolivar. Pissing them off about land grabs, you fucking amateurs? And you should have known better than to make excessive claims about our predictive capabilities. All that bullshit you flung about quantum this and quantum that and time-shifting backwards. What a little shop of horrors you both created for me!”
Edgar and Sara dared not look at each other. They were veterans of Ron’s moods, and they knew well to simply stare at him; to accept the vulgar threats passively as they discharged from his abominable mouth; to never flinch or show a moment of fear.
Ron stared angrily at them. He understood they both knew better than to respond. “Tell you what I’ll do as a result of your mismanagement. This is no conjecture. No uncertainty here. In fact, my plans are already under way.”
The General was ready to burst. “Sir, I strongly suggest you . . .”
“Sit the fuck down!” Ron screamed. “I predicted your childish outburst. Do you know my personal guards are outside the door? One more indiscretion from you, and your ass is mine. It’s toast. No more Generalissimo. No more war games. No, if you move even a fucking eyelid again, I’ll send you out on one of the drones I’m deploying. You’ll fly personally, first class, at supersonic speeds towards Southern’s capital city. If you survive that ride, then you’ll watch as the payload unloads itself directly atop the roof of their soon-to-be demolished capitol building. What fun, no? Just like that old movie of the B-52 pilot riding the nuke to its destination. I’ll even glue a cowboy hat on your head so it doesn’t fly off in the wind as you sail down with that baby toward a lovely Georgia town.”
The General was breathing rapidly and sweat was dropping into his eyes, but he couldn’t wipe it away.
“Say goodbye to some of those stars on your shoulders,” Sara thought.
“I suggest no further interruptions. Look, though I might rib all of you at times, I understand you tried your pathetic best as a team to do as I asked. Only thing is this: I don’t need you, as I stated earlier. Why use fallible humans at this level of international strategy? Imp will replace you, when all is said and done. But I do have something for you. A gift of my gratitude and appreciation, though I am the one who should be receiving gifts. Nonetheless, it’s me giving to you, as usual. Assuming each of you behaves properly, and maybe with the exception of Herr Traitorous General who is unable to control himself, I am offering you the antidote.”
Nobody’s head moved, nor did their eyes. They knew what this meant. Ron had plans to deploy a biologic. The question was whether this was the typical ‘back-over-the-wall’ strike, or something bigger.
“I mentioned my decoupler, remember? Oh fuck!”
Another moment of silence from Ron’s end.
“Imp reports Bolivar just launched missiles in a trajectory towards Georgia. Fuck! And I wanted to get there first, the bastards. They look nuclear. Well, a slight change of plans, General. Appears you might be riding that drone’s bomb into some other city that hasn’t yet been torched to a crumb. I’ll let you know in moments.”
The room was silent and motionless, but every minister was quaking within. Border skirmishes were somewhat common, but a strike against any capital city was a declaration of war.
“All the more reason to release my decoupler, right, Benjamin? Hey, shithole. Are you awake?”
“I am awake, sir,” Benjamin stuttered.
“Do you want to educate them on my wondrous decoupler?”
“Sure, sir. Should I give a technical explanation? Most will not fully understand.”
“Well, with that response, it appears you are unable to dumb this down to my dumbed-down team, so the job gets thrown back at me. Besides, it was my idea. You were just the tool, you and your team.”
With a somber look, Benjamin shook his head in agreement.
“Okay, kids. Brace yourselves. I have a nice piece of new tech to resolve my problems with Southern. And before you each go ballistic, recall that if you behave well, I’ll give you the antidote.”
He scanned the room. “Smiles? Thanks? Isn’t a ‘thanks’ in order?”
The team in gave their thanks in feeble unison, though they were unsure why they were forced to do so.
“Better. I like people who appreciate what I give them, because I give the best stuff, exactly what people need. And I know what they need before they do, just like I know Southern needs this from me.”
He turned his head to his right to stare at Edgar. “Ed-gar, I want to thank you personally for helping with the design of this agent, though it may have been your AI that came up with the great idea and not you. But I don’t care if you take the credit. This is so novel. So novel. This decoupler self-replicates wherever there is oxygen. Indeed, it is powered by the presence of oxygen. As a result, once unleashed, it can spread like wildfire.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Sara felt she was losing control. She closed her eyes, shifting her hand to her head. Becky’s image fell into her mind.
Taking notice of her reaction, Ron dug in. “Dear sister Sara, Imp tells me you’re feeling ill. In fact, Imp tells me you are all a bit too stressed. Don’t take this wrong, okay? I’m not talking about wasting the entire world. I’m only talking about teaching our Southern friends a lesson they’ll never forget, if any are left after those missiles hit their marks.”
His attention returned to the other ministers. “It was Ed-gar’s AI genius that came up with this, so I’d think you’d all be clapping for the grand technical achievement. It’s apparent you don’t understand, though, so I’ll tell you as if I was telling a jackass how to eat hay. First, the decoupler. It’s not just a simple decoupler, but a cellular decoupler.”
Sara opened her eyes and frowned quizzically at Benjamin. Oddly, he was beaming broadly as if whatever monster he created was a wonderful invention in the hands of a madman who could use it to annihilate millions.
“Cellular decoupler?” Sara mumbled unintentionally.
“Put simply, it’s great new tech. Unfortunately, it took longer to develop the vaccine than I thought, otherwise I might already have deployed my decoupler across Southern. The magic is in what it does to the cell walls of animals. This highly competent, hardly detectable agent approaches a cell and tears right into its wall, changing its DNA so the wall self-destructs. The cell bleeds-out, in effect. It leaks to death. It’s not that Benjamin and his team of white coat rats are such great scientists. It really is more about the perfection present in many viruses, natural or otherwise, to permeate cell walls. The main difference is that this one is not a full virus, only component parts. Enough parts to replicate easily in air or water, but also enough to decouple a cute little bunny rabbit in a matter of hours, unassisted. And I don’t mean ‘decouple’ in the fornication sense of the word.”
The ministers sat still in dead silence.
“Confused?” he asked. “Don’t be. It’s already on its way to Southern’s key cities and towns. Being deployed as we speak, mostly via drones. Dropped directly above the bastards. Since it took us two years to develop the antidote, I doubt our buddies in Southern will have time to respond.”
“Range?” Sara stuttered. Her head was swimming.
“Sorry you feel sick, sister, but a great question. Why didn’t anyone else ask? That Imp has determined, its range depends on how much has been dropped and its effectiveness out of the lab to replicate in air or water. I don’t care about the slimy fish it kills. Sorry Ed-gar. And I certainly don’t care about the humans and other animals. I only care that Southern gets schooled on who’s the boss, and not to fuck with me. That’s what I care about. So back to your question, sister Sara. It’s probably twenty to fifty miles in radius before it breaks down from the sun’s radiation. But so many factors can cause that to vary. Either way, I know what you’re thinking. I know everything, so let me answer your most pressing question. Will this kill any Westrich citizens?”
Sara was nervously rocking back and forth, trying to reduce her oncoming nausea. “Appears Sara is the only one nodding. Interesting that she’s the only one asking this question. And here is the answer. Yes! Yes! Some of our snorting piglets will be sacrificed, particularly those in cities and towns close to the border. But you can’t have a skirmish without a little collateral damage, right team?”
“Austin?” someone asked.
“Afraid so. You’re in a border town, gringos! Any of you ever hear that song about leaving Texas? Rearview mirror? None of you country fans? However, I’m generous enough to give you adequate lead time to ‘get outta town, podners.’”
“Teams?” another asked.
“My sincere apologies about your teams,” he replied sarcastically. “I know they’re extensions of your own egos, and that’s the only reason you care about them. I’m afraid they’ll have to ‘take one for the Gipper,’ that funny old sports analogy. Imp’s predicting some will die in Austin and some won’t.”
Unable to control himself any longer, General Vasquez finally stood up and screamed, “You fucking ass! You already deployed this tech?”
Immediately, two of Ron’s mech’d guards burst into the room and forcefully dragged out the General after neutralizing him with an electrostatic gun.
“Anyone else care to interrupt me?” Ron smiled.
Sara couldn’t control her body’s reaction. She regurgitated her breakfast directly onto the tabletop.
“Sister Sara!” Ron exclaimed. “Did this make you sick, or did you catch something from your cancer-ridden sibling?”
Sara spun sideways and threw up again, this time on the carpet.
A few of the other ministers immediately stood to begin searching for towels.
“Sara, you’re excused. Get the hell out of there, sweet child. I bet it stinks in that room like you are now swimming in Sara’s personal sewage. Just get the hell out. I’ll come back to you after you’ve controlled your disgusting puke machine.”
Shaking across her body, Sara hobbled weakly from the room, heaving and trying to repress any remaining contents.
***
Though she felt terrible, Sara knew she needed to gain mental clarity immediately, given the circumstances. Unwilling to warn or face her team, she took the elevator from the conference room floor down to the underground parking garage.
“Can I get you something?” the parking guard asked, searching for a towel.
“No, no. I’m fine. Do you have a paper towel for my blouse?”
He grabbed a rolled-up hand towel used for back support on his chair. “Sick?” he asked.
“Yes, sick. Think it’s something I ate,” she winced, wiping off bits of a partially digested bagel.
Her mind was racing. “Can you do me a favor?” she asked. “I left my cellphone in the conference room and am not going back after puking up a storm in there. Can you lend me your phone? I’ll pay you for it.”
“No need to, ma’am,” he said. “It’s my personal phone, not company issue. They don’t give me one since I don’t have status. I’m just a stupid guard, I guess.”
“Seriously? You’re so nice. Yes, I’ll take your phone and give it back in a bit. Access code?”
He gave her the screen code as she noticed his name tag. “John? Thanks, John. I’ll be sure they give you company issue after this.”
Sara walked up the ramp, just beyond his hearing range. She looked around to see if any of Edgar’s or Ron’s sensor systems were visible, but saw none.
“Strange,” she thought, “how they could be so stupid as to not place their sensors on this long ramp? Budget cuts, the idiots.”
She called her pilot and arranged to have the jet prepared for flight.
“John,” she said after walking back down the ramp, “I hate to ask this, but I’m in a hurry. You know who I am, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Of course, I live here but am always being driven around.”
“You want me to drive you somewhere?”
“No, not that. I’d like to drive your car to our private airport just a few miles from here. I need to catch a flight immediately. Pilot and jet are waiting as we speak. I’ll ask them to have someone bring it back here to you.”
“Sure, but don’t you usually go out in the armored SUVs?”
“Indeed, and I’m glad you’re on your toes. This is a special instance, John, and nobody is going to be out there holding a bazooka with plans to shoot at the least important minister in Vista,” she laughed.
He fumbled nervously for his keys. “That Honda over there. Needs a charge, but you should be good to go. Maybe they could boost it at the air strip if needed?”
“Of course. I’ll have them do that before it’s returned.”
“They don’t let me plug it in here. Budgets.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me,” she smiled. “Thanks much for your help.”
Before taking off, Sara arranged for a rental car in Eugene to drive to her sister’s remote location. Given the confusion she anticipated as Ron rolled out his unilateral actions, she assumed nobody would be thinking about tracking her whereabouts. Not at this moment. Not at the potential ass-end of humanity’s reign on the planet.
She boarded the jet without incident. At mid-flight, the pilot walked back into the cabin. In an unusual gesture, she sat down in the seat next to Sara.
“Don’t worry,” she stated in a calm manner. “Computer’s got the helm. Madam Minister, I’ve been listening as events are transpiring. Not good. Indeed, catastrophic. I’m rerouting us away from our Los Alamos flight path. Apparently, there’s a mushroom cloud. Direct hit on our Labs facilities. Either way, Santa Fe reported the flash, and now they’ve gone dark as well. I’m hoping nothing takes us out of the sky, though we’re mighty small and at a very high altitude for missiles to take much notice. Whatever the hell is going on, it sounds like the world will never be the same after this day. I’ll stay in Westrich airspace, then drop you off at the private strip in Eugene, assuming all is still okay there. I’m worried about my kids. There’s a basketball game tomorrow, and I’m the team mom.”
The pilot wiped her tears away. “Can I get you anything, ma’am? The vidscreen in front of you should be working if you care to hear the news.”
“No,” Sara replied with as much politeness as she could muster. “I so appreciate you doing this on a moment’s notice. I have business in the Eugene area and must stay focused. This may sound crazy, but I can’t handle the news right now. Not at all.”
“Understood, ma’am,” the pilot responded. “I’ll let you know if any other issues arise.”
“Thank you. And good luck with your ballgame.”
The pilot grimaced and turned quickly away, knowing there would be no ballgame.
After landing, Sara located the car waiting aside the runway.
“Becky. Damn it!” she lamented after dialing and redialing her number to no avail.
Becky’s house was an hour’s drive outside Eugene. While Sara was driving there, it became obvious that everyone was inside their homes, likely watching and anticipating the worst.
“I can’t turn on the radio. I can’t listen to the pounding drums of death. I must ignore this approaching debacle until after I see my sister’s face. I only need to talk with her once more, then I’ll re-engage. I’ll get back to the work at hand, dealing with whatever remains of my team, of Vista, and of Westrich. Surely this huge forest of green will not be affected by Ron’s insane new tech. He only said ‘animals,’ right? Or did he? Even if his plague got to this place, the trees should remain intact. But I doubt he actually had the balls to deploy it. He can’t have unleashed his AI-conceived beast. He’s not that fucking crazy, is he?"