Blake Schwendiman's Blog and Blook

Chapter 40

Saturday, 12 March 2022 – 7:00 p.m. SAST

Daniel spent most of the day sleeping and rummaging through Brad’s home. He had scanned for wireless electronics a few times, but never found anything. He assumed that if there were any computers, they must be powered off or simply not connected to the net.

At three p.m. Daniel started to grow weary of waiting. The African had told him that they should be returning at about that time. Four additional hours passed before Daniel finally heard the sound of a car approaching.

Outside, the African watched as a car turned into the drive toward the small home. He had been waiting all day for his payment and his patience had waned. He followed the car on foot and stayed out of sight. He felt he needed to protect his investment and would ensure that he was properly paid.

Inside, Daniel heard the thump of car doors then footsteps and voices. He sat in the living room. The door opened and Brad made eye contact with him. Anupama stood immediately behind Brad gasping as she entered. Brad turned immediately.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “He won’t be staying long.”

Anupama wasn’t convinced. Daniel wasn’t what she had expected to see. He looked more like a pop musician than a software developer. He was wearing khaki shorts and a shirt that only passed as such in the academic sense. It covered very little of Daniel’s torso providing a clear display of his numerous tattoos. His face had an unsettling devilish appearance.

“Hello Brad,” Daniel called. “How are you?”

Brad turned and glared. “I’ve been expecting you.” He turned to Anupama and whispered, “Can you give us a minute?” Anupama looked worried, but agreed.

“So, you know why I’m here then?” Daniel sat with his feet up.

Brad knew exactly why Daniel had come. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“That’s not good enough Brad. The fact that it exists at all is a problem. We need to fix that problem, so I need you to tell me where it is.”

Brad had no intention of giving anything to Daniel. It was true that he had commissioned the development of a device while he was at Naidu. He had been obsessed at the time. He didn’t have authorization to do it, but he was driven. He found a developer inside the team that he could trust and he paid her on the side to help him. Eventually they succeeded. He took the technology when he left.

“I don’t have it.”

“I’ve heard you say that already. What I’m saying is that I need to know where it is.” Daniel shifted slightly in the chair, just enough to reveal the weapon he carried.

“Are you threatening me?” Brad asked. He had moved from the doorway to the living room. He felt surprisingly calm, considering what he knew was about to happen.

“No,” Daniel responded in a condescending tone. He picked up the weapon and let Brad get a good look at it. “This?” he asked. “This is just for self defense. You never know who you might run into in Durban.”

Anupama had been watching from the bedroom. At the sight of the gun she burst into the room with a shriek. “No!” she called. “Brad, we have to go. Please. Let’s just go.” She turned toward the door.

“No!” he called as she pulled the door open. He jumped up and rushed after her. He tried to grab her, but she was a few steps ahead of him. “Anupama, wait,” he cried.

Daniel rushed to follow. He had not expected the reaction. He had no intention of hurting Brad or Anupama. He had come only to obtain and destroy the device. For all their differences, Daniel had always respected Brad. Brad was the most consistent person he knew, even if they didn’t agree on much.

As Anupama reached the edge of the porch, Brad heard the piercing whiz of a bullet. Thump. Anupama spun. Her eyes filled with horror as she crashed down on the steps just out of reach of her husband. He rushed to grab her. Thump. Brad felt a piercing sting, then the flow of warm blood over his chest. He clutched Anupama and watched the life slip from her eyes.

He looked across the garden to see a small African man pointing a gun at him and shouting in Xhosa. There was another pop, this time from behind. The African spun and fell. Brad craned his neck around to see Daniel lowering his own gun and shouting.

Daniel looked down. Brad gasped for a breath and wheezed, “You did this to yourselves.”

Brad was still holding a set of keys. Both the car he drove and the house he lived in were still locked and unlocked with manual metal keys. It wasn’t the keys that Daniel noticed, though. On the chain was a small remote device, an old radio frequency transmitter. Brad pushed the button. The chain fell to the step.

Daniel’s eyes widened. He activated his implants and stared into his visual overlay. His shoulders fell limp and he staggered to the rail to support himself. Physical weakness overcame him as he realized the implications of the information streaming through his view.

“No,” he whispered to himself as he collapsed onto the porch.

Chapter 39

Saturday, 12 March 2022 – 3:30 p.m. SAST

Brad and Anupama spent the majority of the day helping finish the interior of two new homes. Dozens of volunteers helped in the painting, tiling and carpeting of the homes. As always, Brad and his wife worked in the same area of the homes so they could be close and talk. Even after years of marriage, they always found something to discuss.

Brad seemed to be distracted today. Anupama tried several conversation topics, but nothing stuck. Eventually Brad would drift off into a thoughtfulness that Anupama did not recognize.

“Brad, are you sure you’re okay today?” she asked several times. Each time the answer was the same.

“Yes,” he would reply then follow with “I love you so much.”

They spoke briefly about the tragedy in Karachi, then of local politics and of the weather. By noon there was a serene stillness about them both. The work party broke just after three p.m.

“Do you mind if we go downtown before we go home?” Brad asked as they loaded into their car. Brad usually didn’t like to go out. It was particularly unusual that he would want to go downtown before cleaning up, but Anupama could sense that Brad needed something.

“That would be fine,” she answered.

He started the car. There was an initial squeak in the engine as it turned over.

“We really need to get that checked,” Anupama commented. “This car may not last much longer.”

Brad smiled. She was right, but he knew that it wouldn’t matter tomorrow.

There was silence for a moment as Brad weaved through the residential streets toward the highway. “I may be getting a visit from an old friend,” Brad said as nonchalantly as he could. He had spent most of the day trying to decide if he was going to say anything at all.

Anupama felt that this was not good news. “Who?” she asked.

“An old coworker from India named Daniel.” Brad tried to sound upbeat about the information. He glanced over to read Anupama’s expression. She was clearly concerned. The truth was, Brad didn’t actually know much about the cause of his death, but he felt that it would involve Daniel. He assumed that eventually they would discover what he had taken from Naidu when he left.

“He’s not visiting on holiday, is he?”

“No, if he comes it will be work related.” Brad tried to force a smile. Anupama started to say something, but he cut her off. “I wanted to go down to the market, pick up a few things and maybe grab a bunny.”

Anupama knew that Brad always loved to visit the Victoria Street Market with its eclectic offerings and bustle. It was the only place that Brad liked to go that was busy. He always liked to walk past the spot where they had first met and reminisce about all the changes in their lives since then. And he always enjoyed a bunny chow, the curry-filled half loaf of bread unique to the area. They would usually get one bunny to split and eat it while they observed the crowds of the market.

“That sounds fine,” Anupama commented. “Are you sure things are okay? It seems you’ve been worried today – perhaps about this visitor?”

“It’s nothing. We’ll deal with that if and when it comes.”

There was silence in the car for a few moments. Anupama was concerned, but she knew not to press Brad about his past. He hated discussing it. She knew very little of his work, but she knew that he left for personal moral reasons. She had never considered that he could be in danger for having left, but it crossed her mind as they approached Durban.

“Do you have any regrets in your life?” The question broke the silence. Brad had a gift for jumping from topic to topic without a thread of continuity.

“Sorry?” Anupama asked. The question was so disconnected from her thoughts that she wasn’t sure she had heard him right.

“Any regrets. I mean, do you feel like you missed out on anything? Something you would have liked to have done or experienced?”

Anupama considered her answer. She had always wanted to have children, but they had decided early on in their marriage that they were too old. Brad was forty-four and Anupama was forty-one when they married and though they could safely conceive at that age, they felt that they were not emotionally young enough to properly raise children. They had fully established their lifestyles and they enjoyed their quiet time. But deep inside, it truly was the one regret she had.

“Children,” she said. “But you know that. It’s not so much that I regret our decision, but I do regret that we met so late in our lives.”

Brad reached over and gently took her hand. He felt the same way at times, but he had another motivation for not wanting to bring children into his life. He didn’t want to leave them fatherless at a young age. He smiled at her, but there was nothing he could say.

“What about you?” she asked, changing the subject before the tears started.

“So many,” he answered. “But none since I met you.”

Anupama squeezed his hand. She wondered if he would open up. “Can you tell me about it?”

Brad sighed. “There’s too much to tell. We don’t have the time.” He chuckled and shook his head.

Anupama waited.

“I sometimes just wish I could go back and change it all. Not so much the things that I did, but being involved with those people, those businesses. It was all greed and power and corruption. And I was there in it. If I could go back...”

“But you are not there now,” Anupama reassured. “You chose to leave. And that speaks volumes about your heart. It’s all in the past. Don’t think on it.”

Brad smiled. She was the greatest gift of his life.

They spent a few hours of quiet browsing in Durban and shared a lamb curry bunny chow while enjoying their time together. Eventually Brad realized that his present had caught up to his future. The time to return home had come.

Chapter 38

Saturday, 12 March 2022 – 11:00 a.m. SAST

Ramesh had been traveling for nearly fourteen hours when he awoke to some minor turbulence. He had tried sleeping, reading and watching movies to take his mind off the flying, but it had not been successful. He stretched out in the comfortable leather seat and lifted his eye mask. It was dark.

The green start icon still sat unused in Ramesh’s field of view. He had not been motivated to try his implants since he had left. There had been so many things happening in the past few days that he relished the quiet. He groaned. He still didn’t want to run through the tutorial, but he wasn’t sleeping. He closed his eyes and focused on the pointer. He forced it to start.

Craaaack! Ramesh jumped nearly out of his seat as the auditory implant activated. He slammed his hands to his ears then realized that the sound was coming from inside his head. It had not been particularly loud, but it was initially unnerving. A moment later, a vibrant audio-visual presentation began. It was Valerie’s voice.

“Welcome to the Q-Morrow military-grade a/v implant user tutorial,” she began. Ramesh settled back in his seat. There was still a slight ringing in his head, but it was not particularly distracting. The tutorial provided a vast amount of information. It was broken into segments with practice opportunities throughout. The first segment was dedicated to the user controls and the overall feature set.

After twenty minutes of instruction, Ramesh found that he was able to identify all of the wireless devices on the plane. Most of them belonged to the crew. The implants provided not only information about the existence of the devices, but also the approximate physical location of each. He noticed that many of the devices had inadequate security and he was able to access some mundane information such as phone number lists and camera images. He shook his head and sighed. He had no interest in continuing his electronic voyeurism, but realized how easily this kind of technology could be abused by the general public.

He continued through the training. He found that he had access to the net at large, to databases, libraries and research facilities. He was instantly able to create text messages to be carried either by email or instant messaging. He also had instant access to imagery, video, maps and other media of all types. It was overwhelming. He mused at how quickly he would be able to organize his writing career using the instant accessibility of the implants.

The next portion of the tutorial introduced the text editing capabilities. Using the simple up, down, left, right, forward and backward controls combined with an advanced predictive text algorithm, entering long sections of text was surprisingly easy. Ramesh began by attempting to enter his favorite quote from Gandhi, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”

He started by selecting the letter t. Then by simply indicating a move to the right, and up, the letter h slid into position. The predictive text algorithm only presented letters that could logically follow the preceding ones. For longer words, the text seemed to nearly flow without any effort. Ramesh was impressed.

He stopped the tutorial and wrote a one-line message to Quinn: “This is amazing technology. –Ram”

He thought again of his writing career. He detoured from the tutorial to see if he could access his home computer directly. Within a matter of a few seconds, he had full remote access. He laughed with the giddiness of a child as he checked his messages, replied to some colleagues and started a draft article for one of his regular columns. The in-flight hours passed much more quickly.

After spending some time experimenting with the implants, he eventually returned to the tutorial. The next segment covered the use of the futurestream. This is not a module that is not usually discussed in the military-grade package, he mused.

He learned far more about the futurestream than he had expected. It was more than simply a stream of information. It was a comprehensive database of information indexed and categorized and scored. Every bit of information was evaluated using not only simple database indexing techniques, but also using natural language algorithms to further categorize and classify the information. Scoring was based on a complex mathematical formula that comprehensively evaluated all relevant information. For each mention of an event in the future, all other similar events were cross-referenced and weighted. The more consistent the events were, the higher the score.

“Few events ever appear with a probability of one hundred percent,” said the recording of Valerie. “This is due to many factors, some of which we have yet to identify. When considering the probability of a future event, consider both the immediacy of the event and the possibility of human interaction with the event. For example, an event listed with a high probability that is to occur within the next hour is very likely to actually occur. Any event in the more distant future is less likely to actually occur unless the impact of human interaction on the event is negligible. Future weather events and geological events are not affected by human interaction. They will happen as listed in the futurestream.

“Completely random future events like lotteries have high probabilities. However, anything that can be affected by any human interaction has a decreasing probability of actually occurring over time. Stock markets are affected by emotional buying or selling conditions. Births, deaths, marriages and other similar events are fully at the mercy of human decision.” The tutorial continued. Ramesh listened intently to the overview section, waiting anxiously to learn how to activate the futurestream so he could explore it.

Finally he found the information he was seeking. He activated the futurestream search. He sat for a moment, contemplating what he might explore. He typed in a name: Quinn Sorensen. There were over fifteen million search results. He tried again: Ramesh Kapoor. This time there were only a few thousand results. He looked at the list. It was organized very much like any network search page. He could sort by relevance or by date or by probability and he could search for results similar to other results.

He glanced through the list. Within the next few hours he saw that he would be mentioned in a few articles related to the International Genomics Consortium. He read the contents of an article and was disappointed to see that it was biased against genomic research. He continued searching his near future. There were some other mundane references and a few references to another person with the same name. At the moment that Ramesh was about to return to the tutorial, one of the results caught his attention.

“...American citizen, Dr. Ramesh Kapoor died at the scene. Local authorities calling this a tragic accident...”

Ramesh read the entire article. His heart pounded as he read an emotionless news story depicting a multiple-vehicle accident on the N3 highway near Pinetown in which he and several other people were killed. The date of the article was tomorrow.

Ramesh felt himself getting sick. He felt his muscles tighten as he tried desperately to control the input device. He couldn’t manage to clear the screen. He began to feel claustrophobic as he scrambled to deactivate the view. He couldn’t help but read the lines over and over. His breathing quickened. He threw off the eye mask and rushed to the lavatory. He fumbled with the lock and then spun around and fell to his knees. For a moment a waves of nausea ebbed. He forced himself to breath.

After a moment, he stood. He stared into the mirror. The article was still in his view. He gained enough composure to clear the screen. The last thing he saw was the probability of the event: sixteen percent.

He breathed. It was all he could do. Several minutes passed as he tried to process what he had seen. He decided to message Quinn.

Quinn, I have encountered a disturbing future event. I apologize for disturbing you, but will appreciate any advice.

Ramesh wasn’t sure how long he might wait for a response. He checked the time. It was just before four a.m. in Phoenix. He washed his hands and face then unlocked the door. A response appeared in his view as he took his seat.

Ramesh, I apologize for not having had more time to prepare you for things such as this. I found the article about your death tomorrow. I assume that’s the event you found? The good news is that it has only 10% probability (by the time you check it again, it will be less, or it will be gone).

Remember that you’re in control of your own future. To avoid this death, simply avoid taking that route. Or go at a different time. The article suggested that the accident occurred at 1 p.m. tomorrow. Go later or earlier – and avoid that area of the freeway.

Feel free to contact me anytime.

Quinn

Ramesh pondered the response. Though he had never given it much serious consideration, he had always believed in a bit of predestination about his own death. At the same time, he realized that he had always believed that something could have been done to save his wife and kids.

Ramesh thought about Brad. He now had a clear understanding of the moral battle that Brad faced every day he worked for Quinn and Sireesha. He sympathized with his old friend. They would have so much to discuss.

Looking out on the world from thirty-thousand feet, Ramesh saw the pale light of dawn stretching over the sky. It would still be several hours before he arrived in Johannesburg, then a few more to Durban. He wondered if it would be possible to access some of his personal music files and listen to them with the implants. In moments he found his collection. He chose a few selections from the Pat Metheny Group, a jazz band from the late twentieth century that he found relaxing. He adjusted the volume of the playback and settled into his chair. Within a few minutes he was asleep.

Chapter 37

Saturday, 12 March 2022 – 7:00 a.m. SAST

Daniel jogged briskly on a treadmill in the hotel fitness center. He had spent most of his time in Durban either at the beach, in the fitness center or at the nightclubs. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since he had commissioned the search for Brad. Throughout the fitness center, International news broadcasters presented a constant loop of images of Karachi intermingled with reports from experts of all kinds. Daniel knew that this was just the beginning.

At seven fourteen a.m. a small indicator flashed in Daniel’s line of sight. It was the beacon. The African had found Brad. Daniel immediately stopped his exercise and went to his room to change. As he did, he called up the position of the beacon and mapped it. The signal originated in Hillcrest, just thirty minutes away.

Not far from the Royal Hotel was Jordaan Motorsports, a dealership of the finest in luxury vehicles. Daniel had spent an hour there yesterday perusing the selection and meeting the staff. They had exactly what he needed.

“Good morning again,” called the young English salesman that he had met yesterday.

“Morning.”

“Have we come for a test drive?”

“No.” Daniel wasn’t the kind of person who test drove. He didn’t waste his time. He knew exactly what he wanted. He knew exactly what it would cost. “I’m here to buy.”

The salesman lit up. “Which of our cars?”

“Not a car. A Volak.” Daniel reached out and ran his hand over the molded frame of a jet-black and chrome motorcycle. It was manufactured by Volak, the Czech manufacturer that had grown into one of the largest motorcycle manufacturers in the world. While most manufacturers had transitioned to electric or hybrid engines, Volak had remained true to the gasoline-engine aficionados.

“Perfect.” The salesman considered for a moment mentioning the excessive pollution tariffs on the Volak, but decided better of it. Daniel didn’t appear to be the kind of buyer that would settle for anything less than the best. “And will you be paying in Rand or Dollars?”

“Dollars.”

“Excellent.”

At seven fifty-six, Daniel raced away from downtown Durban toward Hillcrest. He weaved through traffic along the N3, the national highway connecting Durban with Pietermaritzburg. The freeway was relatively busy, but the traffic appeared almost stationary as he ripped through it. Traffic thickened near Pinetown at which point he used the shoulder. As he approached Hillcrest, the map in his view zoomed and rotated to match his position.

Just outside of the main town center, Daniel weaved through the hilly neighborhoods of Hillcrest. It had been a small town when he lived in the area, but Hillcrest had grown to become a suburb the Durban Unicity Metropolotan Area area. It had become the fashionable upper-income suburb of Durban with the type of shopping and lifestyle that made it a destination unto itself. The homes were obviously owned by the wealthy. They were large homes on large plots. They were gated and secure.

Daniel slowed as he approached a small gray kombi parked askew on the side of a small residential road. The beacon originated from the kombi. Daniel approached and knocked on the glass, waking the African who had been waiting for just over an hour.

“I’ve found him,” stated the African after crawling out of the disheveled kombi. “He lives there.” He pointed at a distinctly smaller home situated just below the road connected by a narrow dirt driveway.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But he is not there now. No one is there.” The African fumbled through his pockets in search of a cigarette. He drew a long breath then continued as he exhaled, “He works at the house project. My mother’s sister knows him.”

Daniel looked skeptically at the African. “Did you actually see him here?”

“No. But he will be back later ... after two or three, when the project finishes for the day.” The African took another long pull on his cigarette then flipped the butt into the road. “You’ll pay me now?”

“Not until I see him,” Daniel answered.

The African considered pressing the issue for a split second, but decided against it. He remembered how quickly Daniel had disabled the Englishman at the nightclub. He grunted in disapproval but said nothing.

“I’m going to wait in the house,” Daniel continued. “You can stay here or come back later – it makes no difference to me, but remove this heap from the road and don’t let them see you.”

“I’m going nowhere until I have my money,” the African growled.

“You will stay low. I’ll be at the house until they return. I’ll pay you when I leave.”

Daniel did not wait for a response. He strode to his bike and made his way down to the small house. He parked the bike prominently in front of the house and made his way inside.

Inside the house, he found very little. There was no indication of the wealth Brad had accumulated in his years at Q-Morrow and at Naidu. There were few pictures of any kind, but Daniel did find what appeared to be a wedding album. He skimmed through it and left it open when he found a good picture of Brad. After a few moments of rummaging through the bedroom, Daniel returned to the main living room. He sat down and activated a small viewscreen – the only visible modern technology in the house.

He checked his watch. It would be nearly noon in Bangalore. He called Sireesha.

“I’ve found him,” he said immediately after Sireesha answered the call.

“You’re there with him now?”

“No. I’m at his house. He’s not here now, but I’ll stay until he returns.”

“Is there any indication of the device?”

“There’s nothing here at all,” Daniel answered. “Nothing but entertainment devices.”

“Could it be hidden there?”

“Not likely. I scanned for network devices straightaway. There’s nothing modern here at all – I don’t know how he lives.”

Sireesha sighed. “Keep looking. And keep me informed. This is good news.”

The phone clicked. Daniel reclined on the chair and put his feet up. He would wait.

Chapter 36

Saturday, 12 March 2022 – 5:00 a.m. SAST

Brad Harris sipped a cup of hot rooibos tea as he waited for Anupama, his wife of nearly seven years to finish packing their lunch and supplies for the day. It was a beautiful day in Hillcrest, the Durban suburb in which he and his wife had decided to settle. Their house was small and unassuming, perfect for a couple that had chosen to focus on themselves. He had been off the grid since he left India and that suited him perfectly.

Brad glanced at his watch. It was just after five a.m., the twelfth day of March. For eight and a half years Brad had constantly thought about this day. For eight and a half years ago, Brad had taken his last look into the future and had seen his own death.

A short article from an obscure Durban news wire had mentioned his death and an investigation. The probability of the event was less than ten percent, but Brad knew that the probability was skewed because there was so little information about him transmitted over the net. He was also sure that the news was only available on the futurestream created by Naidu Technical. Quinn’s network was not as pervasive in Africa and Asia as was Sireesha’s. He assumed Quinn wouldn’t know. But he hoped.

“Do you have your gloves?” called Anupama from the house.

Brad reached to his back pocket to check. “Yes, I’ve got them.”

Brad and Anupama had spent the better part of their married lives volunteering their time to various service organizations. For years they had worked in an agricultural program organized by the United Nations. Today they were going to work in a home building program that had recently been introduced by the South African government. Brad loved his volunteer work. It was for him a penance for his past.

Anupama was fully involved and fully supportive. She loved being able to help. She had been raised in Chatsworth, poor and fatherless. She met brad at the Victoria Street Market, a hub of Indian commerce in downtown Durban. There had been an almost instant connection. Their courtship took time. Anupama was unsure about the cultural backlash from her family, but three years of patient and consistent effort had paid off. Brad was loved by his extended family at least as much as he was loved by Anupama.

Brad had kept few secrets from Anupama while they were courting. One was the futurestream and the details of his past work. The other was his excessively large nest egg. Only after they were married did Brad reveal the full extent of his wealth. To Brad, however, the wealth was a constant reminder of the transgressions of his past. The other secrets of his past he never fully divulged. He hated that part of his life.

Today was a day that he could not help but think about the past. He was sullen and distant, but not sad. He had planned for this day and he had lived his life fully. He had a beautiful, wonderful wife, a supporting and loving family and he had spent all of his time helping people. He was ready for death if it was to come today. He hated the sadness that it would bring to Anupama, but he had no regrets.

When Anupama joined Brad on the stoop, they stood for a moment and enjoyed the pre-morning quiet. She kissed him softly, noticing an unfamiliar look in her husband’s eyes.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.

He snapped from his reverie. “No,” he smiled. “I love you.”

Chapter 35

Friday, 11 March 2022 – 6:30 p.m. MST

“We have the tissue scan results, Miss Decker,” said Doctor Dorotya Nagy via videophone. Doctor Nagy spoke with a strong Hungarian accent and rarely made eye contact. Despite the awkwardness of her personality, she was the best bio-technical researcher at Q-Morrow. She had been the lead researcher in bio-engineering and genomics at Q-Morrow for just more than three years. Valerie trusted her.

“Will you send the results to me?” Valerie asked.

Doctor Nagy nodded, but added, “The results are very disturbing, Miss Decker. Can you tell me where you obtained the sample?”

Valerie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Understood. I do hope we don’t see this elsewhere.”

“Me too,” Valerie agreed. “Thank you for sending the results. I’ll get back with you if we need further information.”

“Very good,” Doctor Nagy replied. “Good evening.”

“Yes,” Valerie said, distracted by the results she was reading. “Good evening to you.”

She ended the call and pored over the information from Doctor Nagy. The results were more than disturbing. Valerie checked the building security for Quinn. He was in his hobby room, just behind his office. She crossed through the conference room into his office then softly rapped on the door to his hobby room.

“Yeah,” he said, without looking up from his work. He was adding more details to a model for his diorama.

“Doctor Nagy just sent up the results of the tissue scan – Senator O’Grady’s son,” she said as she cleared a spot to sit down.

Quinn put down his tools and turned. “Did she find anything?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “It was artificial, either genetically modified or fully synthetic, and very complex.”

Valerie continued to explain the findings. The agent had been engineered to trigger widespread cellular destruction by destroying the telomere caps of each chromosome.

“Two things are particularly disturbing,” Valerie continued. “First, there is essentially no way to detect the agent outside of this facility. The agent is so complex and so perfectly engineered that it passes all of our current screens. Until we deploy a new set of screens for this agent, it will not be recognized. Second, Doctor Nagy found the remnants of the delivery mechanism within the dead cells. It too is an engineered biological system, like a viral capsid. But the delivery system can be adjusted to release the agent immediately or retain the agent for a later time.”

“How much later?” Quinn asked.

“Based on the remnants found in the O’Grady sample, Doctor Nagy estimates that it had been dormant in his cells for weeks,” Valerie answered.

Quinn lowered his head. “So this agent could be in Laura already?”

Valerie nodded. “It would explain so much,” she said. “Her death ... I mean...” She struggled to find the right words. “The futurestream shows a ninety-eight percent confidence that she’s going to die. And we’ve tried everything. Moving her, postponing events, ensuring she’s at home, ensuring that she’s not at home...”

Quinn held his head in his hands. The world around him was crumbling. There seemed to be no escape from the crushing weight of reality.

Valerie sat quietly, waiting for a response. There was nothing more that she could say. She knew he understood.

“You know,” he said as he looked up at her. “I never really wanted all of this.”

“Nobody ever wants this,” she replied.

“No,” he countered. “I mean this.” He pointed around, indicating his room, his office, his building, his empire. “Have I ever told you what I really wanted?”

“No,” she answered. She enjoyed learning more about the man that had come to mean so much to her personally and professionally. They had spent thousands of hours working together, but she still wondered so much about the man behind the façade. He was the most powerful man in the world according to most accounts, but Valerie could see that he didn’t believe it. She knew him as friendly and warm but often disorganized and flighty. He seemed to have a deficit of attention and an occasional moodiness that was hard to understand. He had never been unkind, but he had never been predictable.

“A writer,” he said. “I wanted to write screenplays for movies. I mean, how incredible would that be? End of the movie, credits roll, and there on the screen: ‘Story by Quinn Sorensen’.”

Valerie smiled.

“Some great movie with a powerful story,” he continued, “but fun with great effects and sound. That would have been something.”

“So that’s why you love this place so much?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “When I’m in here I can re-create the story – and make it a little different.” He looked at his current diorama.

“Did you ever see that movie?” he asked as he pointed at his project.

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “When did it come out?”

“Ninety-nine,” he said as he walked over and repositioned some of the figures.

“No,” she replied. “That was just after my father left. We didn’t go out much after that.”

Quinn turned to look at her. He always thought of her as someone closer to his age. He smiled sympathetically.

“Not the best of the series, but it was the beginning. In this scene,” he pointed to the diorama, “the central character is just a young child and he races to provide a way for all of the good guys to continue their journey to save the universe. He’s young and good and innocent. But later he finds that he has a special power that is uncommon and he falls into evil and goes about the destruction of the universe.”

There was a long pause as Quinn stood over his creation. Valerie stood and walked over beside him. “You’re not destroying the universe, Quinn,” she said quietly.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Look at all the destruction. I’m afraid there will be much more.”

Valerie placed her hand on his shoulder. “Look at all the good.”

“All of the good?” he asked. “All of the good made me a lot of money. I struggle to find anything I’ve done that was truly benevolent. Not like Laura...”

“You need to look a little harder,” Valerie nudged. “It’s there.”

Quinn shifted some of the characters in his assembly as he continued to reflect on his life.

“There has to be a way to save her,” he said softly. He turned to Valerie, but spoke mostly to reassure himself, “Sireesha has made a strong move, but she has to know that killing Laura won’t accomplish anything. It’s a bargaining chip...”

Valerie had no response.

Chapter 34

Friday, 11 March 2022 – 6:30 a.m. MST

Quinn picked up Ramesh from the hotel early on Friday morning. The sun was still just below the horizon as they cruised slowly through the private roads of the Biltmore area. Quinn looked tired. His eyes were red and his voice cracked as he spoke.

“Have you heard the news?” he asked.

Ramesh had not done anything. He had been so exhausted after the previous day that he had slept. He had slept well.

“No,” he answered.

“There was an infection in Karachi overnight.”

“An infection?” This seemed unlikely to Ramesh. Any outbreak of disease would take longer to identify and report than just a single night.

“It appears that a GMO was introduced into some food aid delivered to the earthquake victims.”

“How is that possible? Was it screened?” Ramesh had worked for a short time as a consultant to the US Department of Homeland Security developing risk analysis scenarios and threat profiles on genetically altered organisms. He had proposed several threat opportunities, but the analysis illustrated a negligible possibility of success well into the thirties due simply to the realistic advancement of the technologies. His heart sank as he realized that due to artificially-accelerated development caused by the futurestream, his scenario could be realized immediately.

“It was screened. Naidu BioGenics is claiming that the GMO is outside the bounds of our current screening tools.” Quinn sighed. He rubbed his eyes. “What I don’t know is if that’s true or if Naidu engineered the infection or both.”

“Could she have done it?”

“Sure. Her biotechnology labs may be more advanced than ours already. Based on the assumption that she has developed a better view into the future, she has access to even more future R and D than we have.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, is she personally capable of it?” Ramesh felt the pit in his stomach grow again. The thought of large-scale bio-engineered threats made him nauseous.

“Yes. She and Daniel both. They look at the world through a totally different set of lenses than you or I. Their world is almost entirely devoid of ethics. It was pure science, pure research, pure capitalism. Not anarchy, though. They aren’t stupid. They calculate their moves more methodically. Kill a thousand to aid in forging an economic or political alliance. Use government for funding, for strength.” Quinn drew a long breath. “I think they’re capable of anything.”

“A thousand people died?” Ramesh heard Quinn mention the number, but wasn’t sure if it was an exaggeration.

“Five. Five thousand people died overnight.”

Ramesh sat in stunned silence. He stared at Quinn. His heart overflowed with disgust. He sat two feet away from the man solely responsible for violating the future and indirectly responsible for this atrocity. “Shut it down.”

“What?”

“Shut it down. Shut down the futurestream. Quinn, this is because of what you did.”

Quinn looked at Ramesh. He had spent the night tossing in bed because of the same realization. He had no answer, no solution. “I can’t. I lost control of it the day they left and created their own.”

“Five thousand,” Ramesh whispered. “For what?”

“She wants me to fold.”

“Sorry?”

“She wants me out. Out of the future. Out of the industry. Out of her way.” Quinn sat back. He continued, “She wants nothing more than to dominate the market, the world. Brad and I are the last remaining threats to that end. She’s threatened me personally, now she’s flexing her global muscles. Until I get out of her way, I suspect it will just continue to get worse.”

“Why not just get out then?” Ramesh still saw things in black and white, no matter how convincing the shades-of-gray argument was.

“Nobody threatens me. Nobody threatens my family.” Quinn spoke in a low and determined tone.

“Ego? This is about your ego?”

Quinn cast a glare at Ramesh that sliced right into him. “No. This is about the safety and security of my family. That’s what it’s been about from the beginning. Financial security, well being, personal safety. That’s it. And now I’m being attacked.”

“And what of the five thousand?”

“A demonstration. She knows that I won’t sit back and let her continue. It’s a bargaining chip.” Quinn had no doubts. Sireesha had a single goal: to eliminate Quinn’s position in her global game.

Ramesh was not convinced. He sat back. It seemed pointless to argue Quinn’s perspective. He redirected. “Why didn’t you see this before it happened? Why not just head it off?”

Quinn shook his head. “I could have, technically. But it’s more complicated than that. Imagine an encyclopedia of the future. Imagine having the entire future at your fingertips – and imagine having a very good index in the encyclopedia. What would you look for?”

Ramesh thought about it for a moment. “Terrorist activity,” he said, considering the event.

“Karachi won’t be classified as a terrorist attack,” Quinn answered flatly.

“GMOs? Unexplained infections?” Ramesh began to understand the conundrum.

“Sure. Let me check the futurestream now. I’m looking for future occurrences of the terms GMO and infectious outbreaks. Just over three million matched records.” Quinn focused on Ramesh again. “Ironically, even with the futurestream, you often have to work backwards to find exactly what you’re seeking. Now that the outbreak in Karachi has occurred, I can link other future events to it. But there’s just so much information...”

Ramesh nodded. It made sense. “Why doesn’t she just eliminate you?” Ramesh didn’t mean for the comment to sound so callous, but he didn’t retract it.

“Do you play chess?”

“Sorry?”

“Do you play chess?”

“No, I have, but I don’t play much.”

“But you know the goal?”

“Yes. Checkmate.”

“Exactly. The king is left on the board, cornered into a position from which it cannot be moved. She’s interested in checkmate,” he said. He squinted his eyes, focusing on the chessboard in his mind.

Ramesh let a few moments pass in silence. He glanced out the window and studied the landscape. So much had changed since he had first visited the valley of the sun. Tempe had grown into a new technology and business center. Its high-rise buildings stood as a beacon of the wealth created in the bio-technological boom that had been seeded by Q-Morrow.

“So,” Ramesh started. “What do you want me to ask Brad?”

“I don’t know yet.” Quinn refocused. “When you find him, message me. I’d like to conference him in.”

Ramesh nodded.

“Ram?” Quinn started.

“Yes?”

Quinn paused. He wanted to warn Ramesh again, to impress on him the danger. He changed his mind. He had said it all already. “Thanks.” It was all he could say.

Ramesh forced a smile. He considered reminding Quinn that his only purpose was to help Brad and Laura. He had no interest in becoming an accomplice to the disaster that Quinn had developed.

“Will you be activating the implants then?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Instantly Ramesh saw a new set of information in his visual field.

“Just move the pointer control onto the green start icon when you’re ready to begin the tutorials. I’d recommend waiting until you’re in the air, so you can concentrate on the exercises.” Quinn fidgeted with his watch. He hadn’t felt so unsure about the future in years.

Ramesh sensed the concern in Quinn. He sighed. “Just so you know,” he smiled, “I am fully committed to protecting Laura – to the extent that I can.”

Quinn’s eyes fell to the floor. He choked. “Thanks, Ram. And be careful,” he said, feeling some relief.

Ramesh nodded.

The car slowed and turned into the airport parking. Quinn passed Ramesh an envelope. “Itinerary, cash and a corporate credit card issued to you.”

Ramesh raised his eyebrows as he slid the envelope into his bag.

“It’s the least I can do.” Quinn tried to hide his concern behind a weak smile. “Really.”

“Thanks.”

“Contact me when you arrive.”

“I will.”

Chapter 33

Friday, 11 March 2022 – 12:45 p.m. IST

The message Sireesha had sent to her press contact had done exactly as she had hoped. By noon, Bangalore local time, several calls had been received at the main desk. She scheduled a press conference for one p.m. in the gardens adjacent to her main building.

As the time for the conference approached, Sireesha made her way from the office into the gardens. It was a perfect day, sunny and warm. Sireesha greeted the press as she made her way to a small platform from which she would address the group.

She excelled in her public appearances, having excellent stage presence, an amenable demeanor and being a powerful speaker. She was considered throughout Asia to be not only one of the most influential people, but also one of the most eligible bachelorettes. She had no personal interest in marrying, but she understood the power of her appeal. She used her beauty and youthfulness to her full political advantage.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” she began, “I have invited you this morning to our campus to discuss the recent events in Karachi. As you all know, the Naidu companies dispatched a team of investigators to Karachi immediately after the first reports of an outbreak this morning. Our team was able to test the produce distributed by the aid workers and we were able to detect a GMO in the sample.” Sireesha paused. Instantly the mood of the group changed. There was a buzz of nervous excitement. Cameras flashed.

From the front of the group, a reporter cut in. “Miss Naidu, can you be more specific about the genetically modified organism you found?”

“Our testing is not complete and I do not wish to speculate on the exact nature of the GMOs at this time. But, it is clear that these samples include bio-engineered organisms.” Sireesha spoke with authority. She knew not only how to make a statement that would create the kind of publicity she needed, but also how to withhold just enough information to raise the level of speculation that would be included in every broadcast report.

Another reporter called out. “Are these variants of the genetically modified bacteria that were unleashed in Jordan years ago?”

“Again, I do not wish to speculate until we have a positive identification, but I will say that these samples appear to be more advanced and specifically constructed to avoid detection by current testing techniques. That is why they passed the initial screening.” Sireesha did not have to punctuate her statement by pointing out that the Q-Morrow companies developed the currently-used testing equipment. That fact was well known. And that fact would be included by the press later.

“How did your team identify the GMO?”

“Let me make an analogy. In the first decade of this century, computers and computer networks were flooded with malicious programming code that we called viruses or worms. For years we combated those threats using primitive detection techniques that essentially involved scanning every file for threat signatures – basically a sequence of data signifying a known threat. The obvious problem with this technique was that any new threat could not be identified until after it had been released and identified. In some cases the rate of infection was so high that significant damage occurred before the scanning software was updated to recognize the new threat signature. After battling the threats in this mode for several decades, some very innovative improvements were made to computer operating systems. These changes allowed computers to assess threats in a much more subjective fashion. Computers were, in effect, provided with a rejection system similar to the system your body uses when it rejects a transplant or other foreign material.” Sireesha paused. The members of the press waited. They were engaged.

She continued, “The current bio-detection technologies are like the old software threat analysis programs. They essentially detect known threats based on early developments in artificial organism and genetic modification products. Basically, the state-of-the art is based on ten-year-old bio-technologies. Our detection system is based on modern, adaptable systems.”

One reporter called out from the back, “Is your detection system commercially available today?”

“Yes. In fact our system is deployed throughout India. Had the produce in question been sent through any of our detection systems, the threat would have been identified.”

Another reporter followed up, “So, are you saying that the recent bio-attacks in Karachi are based on more modern technology?”

“Yes.”

“What countries are capable of developing that kind of technology?”

“There are several. The United States, Great Britain, China, France, Japan and India have the capability. Those are the big ones.”

“But those are the primary members of the World Bio-Technology Ethics committee. They operate their bio-research within boundaries.”

Sireesha turned slightly. The question had come from just outside the main group. She faced the reporter. “Certainly. But we must recognize that there are several small research facilities in other countries that have made astounding progress recently – taking advantage of the developments and research of other facilities. North Korea, Pakistan, Iran, Israel, South Africa and others may be capable of such developments.”

“Can you speculate on the origin of the samples your company has found?”

“No,” she answered, “and I do not think that this is the real issue. We as a world community must be more capable of detecting organic mutations whether natural or artificial. Without a comprehensive database of organisms to use as a baseline, we will constantly be subject to the kinds of threats recently seen in Karachi.”

Sireesha was a master of turning fear into marketing opportunities. She had used fear and paranoia as fuel to grow most of her business – fear of disease, fear of death, fear of U.S. encroachment on Asian economics.

“Our new technologies ... technologies created here in India, have proven to be better at GMO recognition than any US or other western technology. We are now leading the world in bio-technological research and development and we will lead the world in creating a more comprehensive GMO threat database. We will make the world a safer place.”

Behind the press, a crowd of onlookers roared in applause. Many of the reporters also affirmed the message. It was a message that echoed the voices of the billions of Asians who were expectantly teetering on the cusp of outpacing the west in all facets of economic and technological growth. Their time had come. They were more than ready to take the lead in the world. Sireesha and the Naidu companies represented the single largest opportunity to take that stand.

Chapter 32

Thursday, 10 March 2022 – 10:45 p.m. MST

Ramesh repacked the few items he had brought to Phoenix and added the spare clothing he had received from Quinn. He was glad to have it for the few days he was in Durban.

His head spun as he considered all that had happened in the last thirty-six hours. No one would have believed his story, if he had anyone to tell. He went to the patio and sat. He enjoyed being outside so early in the year. There were many things he missed about Arizona.

He began considering his trip to Durban. He thought back to his early years. He remembered the football and cricket matches he played in his home town of Chatsworth. He tried to recall the sounds and sights of the festivals in Durban that he had attended with his family. There were some good memories that Ramesh was able to recall, but the most vivid memory of his youth was one that he had tried to drive from his mind for almost forty years.

Ramesh remembered spending a muggy summer day outside with his younger brother Harij playing in the garden. With their nearest friends they had established a makeshift football pitch and spent most of their days practicing and playing. Harij was one of the best football players in the neighborhood. Ramesh was both jealous and proud at the same time, depending on who else was playing.

Their neighbor, Mr. Reddy often stopped by with home-brewed ginger beer or left-over samosas and gave pointers and tips. Mr. Reddy had been a football coach for a boys team for years and loved to help the kids. He was an entrepreneurial man, always changing jobs. He had recently entered the local taxi business, had purchased a used Kombi and was making regular trips between Chatsworth, Phoenix and downtown Durban. Ramesh and Harij had been allowed to make a few special trips with Mr. Reddy just for fun.

It was on a particularly sweltering day that Ramesh and Harij sat on the grass of the football pitch and just talked with each other. They dreamed of playing football professionally and the money they would make. Three Kombis arrived and drove right into the garden at Mr. Reddy’s house. A dozen or more African men piled out of the Kombis and rushed into the home. Ramesh heard Mr. Reddy cry out. There was shouting. Then Ramesh saw Mr. Reddy being dragged out of his home. He was unconscious. Three Africans lifted him up while two others pulled a rubber tire over his neck and filled the inside with petrol. Harij started screaming and running toward the house. Ramesh grabbed him and pulled him back.

Ramesh remembered the horrifying scream and the acrid black smoke rising up from the burning figure that had been his neighbor. The three Kombis disappeared almost instantly leaving two young boys clutching each other and weeping as their dear Mr. Reddy suffered a most terrifying death. The necklace, as it was called, was typically reserved for Africans who opposed the ANC, the African Nation Congress. Rarely was the necklace used on a non-African, but Mr. Reddy had stepped over a boundary that few outside South Africa could comprehend. The taxi routes were owned by the Africans and were violently defended. Newcomers were not welcome. Especially Indian newcomers.

Less than six months passed before Ramesh and his family emigrated to the United Kingdom. Harij was never quite the same. He lost interest in football and spent most of his time alone. Ramesh had used the event as a catalyst for his career. He focused on his studies and emphasized ethics and politics.

Ramesh stood. He drew in another breath of sweet orange blossoms and returned to the suite. He settled onto the bed and tried to find some pleasant memories. He hated falling asleep with the fresh thoughts of tragedy burning in his mind. He could find nothing that was truly pleasant.