Mr. Kamaras, he told the grief-stricken family, insisted they honor the man who had promised to help the Center out of a tough situation. The family found the gesture so touching, they committed to seeing David’s last project through to completion.
The next day, the crew returned to work, and by sunset, the capacitor networks sat halfway between the departing Taiwanese cargo ship and their final resting place. Twenty-four hours later, they were in place and undergoing system checks as the Navy crew lifted the last section of the McCullough’s crane away. The U.S.S. Ronald Reagan waited offshore, surrounded by its carrier group in the deep water just off the point, ready to feed the power-hungry apparatus hidden inside of Fusion B.
“Thank you for not ruining my Beta, Richard,” said Dr. Akindele as the two stood together, watching techs perform the capacitor diagnostics.
“Nice of you to say, Jimi.”
“Or maybe I should say thank you for not ruining my Beta yet—since there is no way to test a full discharge cycle.”
“It’s going to work.”
“We shall see, Richard. We shall see.”
Dr. Akindele left him alone to watch over the remaining preparations and system checks.
***
Aiden Watson hesitated outside the cafeteria door. He was a SEAL, used to following orders without question no matter how dangerous the mission. Though tonight’s mission presented no danger, he dreaded it more than he could explain rationally.
He’d started getting closer with Jayson the previous week—chatting with him in his office, having lunch with him, and finally inviting him out for wings and beer at a little place in Waipahu. He turned out to be okay for a geek, and held his beer pretty well, too. The next day, he used their budding friendship as an excuse to hang out with the rest of the kids in the cafeteria at dinner.
Kids. He snorted to himself. Most of them were only five or six years younger than he was. Still, he doubted any of them ever had an actual job, or had to kill someone to save their own lives. Compared to him, they were kids. Maybe that’s why he felt so strange about what he had to do next. He took a deep breath and slipped through the door for his second evening with the researchers, heading for their group of tables in the corner.
When he arrived, taking a seat next to Jayson, they were already discussing the topic Cal had slipped into their feeds in various forms. Jesus Christ. He knew about the AI, but had never seen the results of its work. How did they predict—no, control—what would be on their minds? Perhaps it wasn’t all the magic of the algorithms. Perhaps others like himself were hidden among the recruits, subtly shepherding them through the recruitment process.
“I want to have kids,” said one woman, “but it doesn’t seem fair to bring them into this mess.”
Hitarthi Srinivasan. A materials scientist—whatever that meant. He’d studied their photographs and memorized their bios.
“I’m the same way,” replied Luping Zhang.
“I know it’s selfish,” added Kailani Kahue, “but I still want kids someday—even though I know things will be hard.”
“What have I walked into?” he asked.
“A poll came out today,” said Jayson. “Says a lot of college-educated millennials aren’t having kids because of the climate crisis.”
“Forget college-educated,” said Aiden. “Even a lot of my friends back home are thinking twice about it.”
He looked around and noticed a lot of nodding.
“What about you?” he asked, turning to Jayson.
“I bet the numbers are even worse for us in Gen Z. I doubt I’m having kids.”
“I thought you were here to fix all that.”
Jayson shrugged.
“I am. But that doesn’t mean I believe it’s possible.”
“What about you, Aiden?”
He glanced across the table. Samaira Adams—his mission objective.
“Do you want kids?” she asked.
“I’m torn. I’ve always seen myself as a father—teaching my kids how to play baseball and ride a bike. You know, stuff like that.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“It’s like Kailani said. I feel like it’s selfish to ignore what they’ll have to face. Hell, that’s why I’m here at the center. If there’s a chance we can make a better world for our kids, I want to be part of it.”
“That is so sweet,” said Kailani. “Who would have thought a big, tough-looking guy like you could be such a softie?”
Aiden turned a shoulder to her and made eye contact with Samaira.
“And you? Do you want kids?”
“For the longest time, I didn’t think so. Lately, I’ve felt more like I’d be missing out on a life-changing human experience.”
Aiden reached across the table and placed a hand on hers. She cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t pull away.
“Let’s make this opportunity mean something.”
An awkward silence as Samaira looked down at his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away.
Shit. He’d moved too soon. The whole thing felt so unnatural. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jayson glaring at him.
“That’s alright,” said Samaira. “I understand why you’re passionate about this. It’s why I’m here, too.”
Samaira’s response diffused the momentary tension, and Aiden breathed a sigh of relief.
“I don’t think I’ve hit you yet,” he said.
“No. I don’t think you have.”
Samaira held up her phone, tapping it against his to share her profile. Aiden smiled.
Cal and his team had gleaned what little they could about her from her browsing habits, and gave it to the AI to construct an appealing bio. He’d spent the last few hours before dinner studying his fake past, hoping he wouldn’t screw up any details. Her face lit up as she skimmed it.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Oh! That’s such a cute dog! How old were you in that picture?”
He wrinkled his brow. He didn’t have a dog the last time he checked the profile.
“Uh…”
“And what’s that?” she asked, turning the screen.
Aiden bit his lip, struggling to suppress a snort at the obvious attempt to manipulate her emotions.
“Uh—that’s one of those doggie wheelchairs. Basically, a pair of wheels you can strap on if their hind legs don’t work.”
“Poor thing. What happened to him?”
He looked down and sniffled, buying a few seconds to improvise a story.
“Her. She was born that way,” he said finally. “We were pretty poor growing up, and couldn’t afford a nice purebred lab like that one. A neighbor’s dog had a litter with one disabled pup, and I begged my mother to let me keep her so they wouldn’t put her down.”
The women stared at him wide-eyed. Kailani held a hand to her open mouth, looking as though she might cry. It was too much. He covered his face with both hands, struggling to maintain control. A snort of laughter escaped as he tried to banish the image of his make-believe Labrador skidding around with the ridiculous contraption strapped to its ass. With any luck, it sounded like a sob.
“I have to go,” he said, pushing back his chair.
He rushed from the cafeteria with a hand over his mouth and pulled out his phone as the door closed behind him.
WTF man
?
Fucking wheelchair dog?
AI loved it
Almost lost my shit
Sorry
No more surprises
Aiden shook his head as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. No way he could go back after that. The pack of jerky waiting in his room would have to suffice for dinner.
***
The Fusion team, along with their VIP audience from Alpha, reassembled on the remote peninsula for the Beta event. This time, Admiral Daniels brought a guest. Captain Raul Ibarra ran the Columbia program for the United States Navy, managing the requirements and contracts for the new ballistic missile submarine slated to replace the aging Ohio class. As the leader of Delta, he’d insisted on witnessing the precursor events firsthand.
Richard stood beside him, looking down into the chamber at the star of the show. Ruan Van Zijl stood surrounded by techs, fitting him with instrumentation and double-checking his gear. He wore a full pack strapped to his back, and two large, hardened plastic cases sat on the floor next to him.
“So, he’s really doing it,” said Captain Ibarra, shaking his head.
“He’s shown no hesitation since we came to our understanding.”
“I don’t know how you found a volunteer for this.”
“It’s not as hard as you might think. First, we identified candidates with the right skills—and a certain moral flexibility.”
Ibarra raised an eyebrow.
“Nearly half the world volunteers every aspect of what they think and do online,” continued Richard. “It isn’t hard to find a pool of candidates when you’ve got three billion people to choose from.”
“Fair enough.”
“We scoured the online history of our suitable targets, searching for ways to influence them. Then, we narrowed down the pool by running and refining the simulated responses to different manipulation strategies.”
“And for him,” said Ibarra, nodding toward Ruan, “the opportunity you exploited was his wife’s death?”
“A fortunate accident. The AI pounced as soon as the simulations converged.”
“That doesn’t sound like much to work with.”
“Enough to build a strategy. Then, we programmed him to hit the Hawai’ian activist. The news he read, the media he consumed, the way our bots reacted to his posts—all orchestrated to get the results we needed. The algos even predicted the time of death within a few hours.”
“Shit. And he still believes the guy did it?”
“Convincing him he didn’t murder an innocent man was the easy part. He wanted to believe it because it meant he may still be worthy of his wife. Part of him knows it’s bullshit, but he voluntarily represses that.”
“What’s the strategy for the Gamma recruits? How are you getting them to buy in?”
“That’s a different approach, obviously. We identified people with the skills and traits we need, and then looked for those predisposed to climate anxiety. After that, we cranked up their fear by controlling their content consumption.”
“And they don’t suspect they’re being manipulated?”
“Like our mercenary, they willfully ignore evidence that doesn’t support the narrative they’ve accepted, and attach extra significance to evidence that does.”
“Just like that?” asked Ibarra, snapping his fingers.
“We all do it—to one degree or another. It’s in our nature, and remarkably easy to reinforce through psychological conditioning.”
The Captain narrowed his eyes.
“Did you manipulate me into this?”
“We identified you with our platform, but unlike our Gamma recruits, you’ve seen the full picture.”
Ibarra nodded.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Captain. I need to check on our friend.”
Richard glanced at the timer counting down on a nearby ceiling-mounted monitor. Still time for a last-minute pep talk.
Descending the stairs from the control room, he entered the chamber through the ground-level double doors. Technicians had changed the equipment configuration for Beta. In place of the pedestal from Alpha sat a ten-meter-long elevated walkway with a ramp at the near end. About a half-meter off the ground and two meters wide, it terminated at the twin-ringed apparatus.
Behind him, a tech hauled in a two-wheeled bamboo cart that looked a bit like a rickshaw. Even the enormous wheels were made of natural materials, and the structural connections consisted only of plant fiber bindings. The modest conveyance stood in stark contrast to the sleek, high-tech surroundings. With help from a colleague, the technician hoisted the two hardened cases and strapped them to the cart.
Ruan paid them no attention. He shifted back and forth on his feet, staring at the device dominating the room.
“Just a few minutes to go,” said Richard. “You want to do a last run-through of the procedure?”
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. For the last couple of days, Ruan had dismissed any suggestion of another briefing, insisting he was ready. With only minutes to go, he looked nervous. Richard put a hand on his shoulder.
“Just walk the cart up the ramp and keep an eye on the walkway LEDs.”
“Yep. Got it.”
“Five seconds before go, they turn red and start moving toward the aperture. You’ll get an idea of the pace you need to maintain from how fast they’re going.”
Ruan nodded.
“When the lights go green, step on top of them and keep following. Both you and the cart need to stay in the green zone. If you get ahead or fall behind, don’t worry. We’ll give you some guidance over the intercom.”
“What kind of drop should I expect at the end?”
“Nothing noticeable. We excavated the site to line up pretty good.”
“Am I going to materialize inside a tree?”
Richard laughed.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that is going to happen.”
One of the techs in the control room addressed the chamber over the intercom.
“Let’s clear non-essential personnel from the chamber, please. We’re going to start the sequence in sixty seconds.”
Richard clapped Ruan on the shoulder.
“You’ll be fine,” he assured. “Just stay in the green zone.”
Ruan nodded again.
“Initiating power sequence,” came the announcement from overhead.
A hum filled the room, and the floor vibrated as the inner rings of the apparatus started their acceleration. Richard returned to the control room above to join Rebecca and the Admiral. They stood watching in silence with Captain Ibarra as Ruan took hold of the two-wheeled cart and mounted the ramp. He paused at the top, his eyes fixed on the walkway.
Admiral Daniels turned to Richard.
“What’s the transfer rate this time around?”
“About sixty kilos per second.”
“How does that compare to Alpha?”
“The theoretical limit for Alpha was around half a kilo per second, but we limited it to a tenth of that to stay on the safe side.”
“That’s impressive scaling. Do we expect the trend to continue?”
“Everything has matched predictions so far.”
“Superposition achieved,” announced a control tech.
Richard turned his attention to the apparatus. The rail-mounted ring began moving toward its stationary counterpart, causing their concentric, translucent waves to interfere. After a few seconds, a standing wave pattern emerged from the chaos.
The rows of lights on the walkway turned red in steady succession, advancing toward the rings, and Richard could see Ruan mouthing the five-second countdown to himself, stepping forward just as the lights beneath his foot turned green. Walking at the steady pace indicated by the changing colors in front of him, Ruan and the makeshift rickshaw maintained position in the middle of the advancing green zone.
“Target waveform is locked,” confirmed the control tech.
Ruan stared at his feet, focused on the lights guiding his pace as he followed them to the end of the walkway. With no signs of hesitation, he stepped through the first ring and into the standing wave. Flashes of light pulsed from the device while first Ruan, then the trailing cart, vanished into the aperture.
Everyone held their breath as they waited for Dr. Akindele to speak.
“Complete mass entanglement with resultant waveform confirmed.”
Such a cold statement to herald a new era for mankind. Had Richard been given the honor, he’d have tried to come up with something iconic—even if it would never be shared with the outside world. A round of subdued applause rose from the assembled team, and Ibarra turned to Richard, shaking his head.
“Incredible,” was all he could manage.