The Church of the Ascended’s local headquarters is much like their other buildings, a monolithic structure that conjures up visions of a past that likely never happened. These features are combined with elements that suggest a future that I pray will never happen.
Echo Industries made combat drones surround the building. Robed figures roam the area, their garments covered in the Church’s symbols. There are cameras everywhere. Of all the places that they could have taken her, this one is as secure as any.
I am glad that I insisted that me and Mason spend at least a few minutes walking around in the robes before we started making our way toward the HQ. The garments are strange, and it take some getting used to. We wouldn’t want either of us giving ourselves away by failing to look like we are supposed to be there.
I look at Anthony, “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m sure. Anything for a friend.”
I turn to Mason, “You will have a place with Mason’s crew, right?”
“Of course,” he says, looking distracted, probably thinking that he doesn’t have much of a crew left. He is holding a duffel bag, which contains our contingency plan. Its just the three of us, each hiding a small arsenal under our robes. But our objective isn’t combat, Anthony thinks that he can quietly get us in and out. I have my doubts, but it is the best shot that we have.
The anesthetic is starting to wear off. I begin to fear that the pain will hinder me.
We reach the perimeter, Anthony moves his hood back and waves to the drone commander. He nods his helmeted head at him, and we are inside the building.
The walk across the lobby feels like it takes a solid week; the wait for an elevator feels like it is twice that time. “Are you sure that he will keep her in his office?” I ask as we ride up to the top floor.
“Yes, I was his assistant for a while, he always keeps important things close.”
“Smart man,” Mason quips.
The elevator reaches its destination. We exit it, finding ourselves in a lavish office. The floors are immaculately polished tile, set in intricate patterns. Magnificent banners flank a set of doors that sit opposite a massive window. This window has a view that would throw the heads of major corporations into a jealous rage. A gigantic bookshelf lines one wall, its presence feels haughty, like the owner wanted to show off the fact that he possessed and read old style books. Two guards clad in an ornate version of the militia’s armor and holding rifles at port arms are standing on the other side of the room. And there’s Jill, sitting on a chair in one corner; her arms restrained, a defiant look still on her face.
The guards bring their weapons to the present arms position, a clear threat.
Anthony throws his hands up, gesturing for them to calm down, “Woah, guys! We’re just here to help the Aryaleiter with something.”
The one on the left speaks, “No one told us anything about it. I will contact…”
Predicting how he will finish the sentence, Mason draws his SMG, me and Anthony follow suit. The guards react, raising their weapons to the firing position. Mason is too fast for all four of us. The silencer on his weapon turns the already weak sounding shots into whispers, the damn thing probably costs three times the price of the weapon itself. He puts a burst right into their necks, one after the other, right in the spot where the armored plate gives way to flexible material.
The two men crumble to the ground, too busy clawing at their jugulars to shoot. “Damn, that was some great shooting, are you really some kind of android?” I jokingly ask Mason.
One corner of his mouth raises for a second, “Ya, a heavily upgraded sex bot.”
I see the distortion as a commando makes a move toward him. I shout a warning as I level my carbine. Another blur appears, this one thinner, moving horizontally as a commando smacks my weapon away. I lose my balance, fall, my stomach wound opens up, the staples popping out like some horrific parody of a gag where a shirt’s buttons explode off after the wearer has eaten a big meal.
Mason is struggling with the blur, keeping an invisible katana at bay. He lets off a burst from his submachine gun, walking rounds up a wall, failing to get the unseen enemy. Anthony has raised his shotgun but is unable to open fire without hitting a friendly. I ignore the pain, try not to think about the bleeding as I lift the carbine up. A distorted swipe fills the air, half of the barrel falls away, clanking on the tiles.
I start scurrying backward, struggling to draw my revolver. The thing draws closer, keeping low, foiling Anthony’s attempts to line up a shot. My pathetic retreat is brought to a halt when I run into something. I look over my shoulder, seeing a pedestal, one of many decorations that adorn the room. The thing that sits on the podium is a globe, but not of any planet that I recognize. This world is trapped inside of some kind of bladed cage. I try to pop up onto my feet, but my wound keeps me on the floor.
The inner doors open, a strange being enters the room, stopping dead in his tracks. Beyond the doors I can see an empty room, which looks like an office or study.
Mason uses the distraction to let go of his opponent’s sword. He reaches for his LBV, grabs a massive hunting knife. Using pure guess work, he finds a weak spot in the commando’s armor, jams it into a vital organ.
I get a message from Anthony, it is a crude, rapidly thought up image of me using the pedestal for cover. I scramble behind the platform, praying that the stone is strong enough. I close my eyes, hear three shotgun blasts in quick succession. I slowly stand up, seeing a shimmering form on the ground, the blood that is already pooling causing the invisibility system to fail.
I slowly work my way to my feet. We turn to face the being that has just entered the room.
He is completely hairless, except for a set of thin eyebrows. Ornate robes cover his thin frame and porcelain skin, the flesh is so white that it is totally unnatural. Almost androgynous, only his voice and a few scant physical features give away his gender. His eyes are blacked out, no whites or irises at all, but if you can bring yourself to stare into them you will quickly notice that little flics of purple swirl around in them. External cybernetics adorn his pale skin. This is the Church’s vision of the new human, the next step in evolution; the future of our species, made in the image of their psychonaut founder.
If you have seen a few of them, you can look past the standardized features and identify the individual. I recognize Aryaleiter Mamuna from my time in the Echo systems. He is a powerful figure in the Church. His look of annoyance at the noise turns into one of distress, as he realizes what is going on. Then a look of anger and confusion crosses his almost genderless face, we can tell that it is because he can’t seem to call for help using his IC. Mason holds the bag up and grins, “Jammer. Very expensive, but worth the investment,” the idea had come to us when Anthony had asked why Jill wasn’t talking to us on her IC.
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Mamuna looks at Anthony, “We bring you in, help your wayward soul, and this is how you repay us? I am disappointed in you, Morningstar. I suppose that you no longer wish to be called by that name, even if it is your true name.”
“You took me in, you helped me when I was lost. But you always charged me for it, expected money, loyalty, compliance.”
“You have no idea what you are talking about. Without us you are lost and alone.”
“Isn’t that the way that it always is, I have to join up and be a good boy. If I fail to do so I am the worst of the worst, and hopelessly doomed. I’m not playing that game anymore.”
“You will be exiled. I will call in favors, I will make sure that none of the other companies have anything to do with you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care? You will care when you are on the street!”
“Fuck you. I don’t care what you think anymore,” I see in his eyes that same joyous freedom, and I am happy for him.
While he is confronting his former master I free Jill. We are ready to go, but first there is one more thing that I need to take care of. I can feel that the blood has soaked my shirt, I ignore the pain as I address Mamuna, “Tell me, what is so important about getting her? Is blackmailing Smith really worth all of this madness?”
Mamuna takes a second to gather his thoughts, “He was drunk and horny. He is not a perfect person, even if they make it look like he is.
“He was drunk, so drunk that he didn’t realize that he had stumbled into the wrong place to get his…release. Alpha pretends to be family friendly, but even they have loosely associated subsidiaries that deal in vices. He didn’t realize until a few days later when he looked at his bank account and saw the fine for using a non-Alpha business. He panicked, what if Burabō figured out what had happened and outed him? Or much worse, what if they blackmailed him?
“He told an assistant to deal with it. The lacky couldn’t find the girl, she had been transferred to another place. His assistant chose money over loyalty. He sold information about the scandal to an Untouchable. But the assistant betrayed him as well, he also sold it to Délta and Echo.
“Burabō just wanted their debtor back. Alpha Prime wanted her so that they could keep her quiet. Charles Fauré wanted her because everybody else did. Burabō got her back, thanks to that bounty hunter. Then they gave Ms. Winters to Délta Corp, in exchange for the promise to make the Liberty Party more focused on anti-drug activism.”
“But why do you and Délta want her so bad? Is controlling Smith really worth a radical change in policy? Hell, people obsess over the office of the president. Yes, it is a powerful position, but it has a lot of restrictions on it. It’s not like he can just wave his hand and make magic happen. The heads of the megacorporations and groups like the ASC are much more powerful.”
“Our aim isn’t to control a president. That would be too short sighted, and as you said, there are too many restrictions in place. Our aim is to take control of the entire government.”
“You want to launch a coup?”
He casually walks over to the colossal bookshelf, examines the spines of the tomes as he speaks, “There is a war going on, or maybe it would sound less irrational to call it a conflict. What do people do in a conflict? They try to win, of course. How do they win? It depends on the nature of the conflict, but generally, it is because they gained a significate, if not massive advantage. How do they gain this advantage? Again, it depends on the nature of the conflict, but generally, they get an edge by securing more resources than their opponent.”
“An amateur studies tactics, a professional studies logistics,” I cite the oft quoted line.
“Exactly. While tactics are very valuable, and can greatly help to win a war, they take a backseat next to things like supply chains and standardization.”
“This is all true, but what in the fuck does it have to do with anything?”
“It is simple. The government is a resource.”
“The government is, at best, a corrupt mess. At worst, it is a racket, one that is backed up by the force of law.”
“You understand the basics. The government has the power to force people to do things, and it has the power to tax. All of it backed up by a massive police force and a professional military. The state can take a person’s money and force them to act a certain way, regardless of their corporate loyalty.”
“Okay, I’m following.”
“The government is a resource, just like any factory or asteroid. People don’t see it that way, they see it as either an institution that maintains order or they see the laws and taxes as a burden. What they fail to realize is that it is possible to take control of the government. There is a system in place which allows entities to give donations to politicians, effectively creating a legal and systematic form of bribery.”
“None of this is new, it has been the norm for a long time now. That was how they did it in the United States of America. It was one of the reasons why they became a failed nation.”
“You are a student of history, good. The five corporations and the institutions that control them are locked in a conflict. Sometimes they team up, other times they stab each other in the back. They take a variety of actions, make different moves, all in the name of winning.”
“The propaganda and the businesses, they need people and cash.”
“Precisely. To them, it is all about profit and furthering their agenda. They sell products to make profit, they want to grow and increase their power. As I said before, the government is just another resource to fight over. It is simple to understand, but it requires the acceptance of hard truths.”
“Okay.”
“We want to use the power of the government to help people take the next step in evolution. Délta Corp and the pro-Mars faction of the Liberty Party want to use the power of the government to send tax money to the red planet.”
“So what? Are these two goals incompatible?”
“Yes, the cost of our ascension will be high. Cybernetic and biological parts for the whole species, it will be very expensive, and there is only so much money in the government’s coffers.”
“So, this whole thing has been about controlling where tax money goes, why am I not surprised? You want the girl so that you can have something to hold over the leadership of the Pee Bees, you will threaten their future president with destruction if they don’t do what you say. You want Alpha Prime to side with you, give you their voters. All so you can make your vision of transhumanism a realty.”
“Délta had the same goal in mind. They were willing to get their hands dirty to advance their cause. We want to help the human species advance, why would we pass up an opportunity? Why would we let a rival acquire so much power? We had to act.”
“You can’t maintain control of the Pee bees. Their goals are contrary to yours.”
“Their faith can be subjugated to ours. All we need to do is get their leaders to back us up.”
“Do you really think that it will be that easy?”
“Of course it will. The People of the Book act like they know the truth, but they will twist themselves into knots trying to convince themselves that pleasant lies are fact.”
“But so many of their ideals go against what you believe.”
“It doesn’t matter. They have followed contradictory ideals before, they will do it again, and they will do it with a mad belligerence. They pretend to reject all that is worldly, but they will rush to lick the boots of the established order.”
The sad thing is the fact that he is completely right. I don’t know what to say, I am unable to counter him. I elect to smile and point at Jill, “Well, that won’t be happening.”
“I will get the guards,” Mamuna turns his back on us, heading toward the door.
Anthony steps forward, hits him in the back of the head with the buttstock of his shotgun. He falls to the ground, lies there, just staring off into space.
Jill looks horrified, “You killed him!”
“No. There is a known flaw in the DMT emitter, a sharp blow like that can cause it to leak uncontrollably. The Church is so dogmatic that they never modified the design to fix the problem. He will be fine, he will spend the next few days going on a psychedelic journey.”
Mason looks at the limp form splayed out on the floor, “We should kill him.”
“We probably should. But let’s just get out of here.”
By the time that the elevator reaches the ground floor I am struggling to stay standing. By the time we reach the car they have to help me into it.
Mason tries to reassure me, “I will take you to our little back up place. Just sit there, I will get someone to patch you up.”
“No, we are going to the Grotto.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. They could change the access codes at any minute.”