Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next morning, Brandyn Handley woke up early and headed for The Brain.

The Brain was the private nickname given to the Dynamica Core Applications and Systems Center, an inconspicuous but heavily guarded flat, brick building located in Princeton, New Jersey, just a few miles from Princeton University. The signage out front didn’t even identify Dynamica – it simply said ‘CAS Center’. The reason for downplaying the company’s presence was that it was actually a critical element of the Dynamica technology infrastructure.

This is where the chip-coding databases lived, hosted on massive servers that were meticulously backed up on other servers around the country. The best and brightest worked here in total secrecy to ensure every citizen was properly active in the system and receiving the appropriate communication signals from transmission towers that linked to the Dynamica satellite.

Brandyn parked his car in a guarded lot that required an ID badge for the highest level of corporate security. He proceeded through five more layers of clearance to get inside the building and to the core systems room, including codes, thumbprints, face scans and an old-fashioned sign-in with a team of heavily armed, no-nonsense lobby guards.

He had no problems because, despite this being an unscheduled visit, he was the head of operations. He ran the day-to-day technology needs. This was his domain.

Brandyn received warm greetings and immediate respect. He had not been inside the CAS Center for a few months, but he was accepted without a trace of curiosity or suspicion.

It helped settle his rattled nerves because he was here to do something highly illegal.

He entered a massive sea of monitors filled with rolling data on every citizen in the country. As he walked the long aisles of the sprawling systems room, the employees who recognized him stiffened a little with intimidation and made sure to demonstrate total focus and hard work, tapping diligently at their keyboards. One older fellow in the mix of hunched programmers said, “Hello, boss!”

Brandyn chuckled. “At ease, everybody.”

A manager rushed up to welcome him. He had a tidy, small mustache and enlarged eyes behind big glasses. “So good to see you, sir. We weren’t expecting you.”

“Just a short visit, a spot check.” Brandyn continued to walk a long aisle of faces buried in computer screens. Then he found what he needed: an empty desk with a blank monitor.

“Are we down head count?” he said, pointing to the rare gap in productivity.

“No sir,” said the manager. “That’s Andy. He left this morning. His wife is having a baby.”

“How wonderful!” Brandyn said. “Do you mind if I sit at his desk? I need to run a quick systems check on something. It’s routine. Won’t take long.”

“No, no, of course not,” said the manager, rubbing his hands together nervously, eager to please a corporate leader. “Whatever you need. No problem at all. Can I get you some coffee? We have real coffee. If it’s not fresh, I’ll make a new pot.”

“No need,” Brandyn said with a gentle laugh, dropping into Andy’s chair. “Please, don’t let me interfere with your day. Pretend I’m not even here.”

The manager lingered for a moment, until it was obvious Brandyn had no more words for him, and then he obediently scooted away.

Brandyn looked to his left. He looked to his right. He craned his neck to look behind him.

Everyone was deep in their work, putting on a good show for the Executive Vice President of Operations. They knew better than to stare.

Brandyn used his personal access code and password and entered the system.

He reached into his sports jacket pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper.

It was the list of names and service codes of the prisoners scheduled to be terminated – the sheet given to him by Wilbur Kepling at the federal building.

Brandyn let out a small, barely perceptible sigh, then got to work.

He called up Marc Tefteller. Marc showed up as a line of code linked to the satellite.

Brandyn deleted him from the system.

A pop-up window immediately appeared requesting confirmation of his action. He poked YES.

Brandyn disengaged everyone on the list from the signal feed. He deactivated their chips. It was a highly unusual action to take, unless there was a technical or health problem with a chip and it needed repair. Brandyn knew these deletions would go in a report for scrutiny and recordkeeping.

But he also knew how to keep these names off the report.

After disconnecting the four individuals sentenced to death, he called up a few additional service codes to erase from the system.

His wife, Letty.

His two sons.

And then himself.

“I can get you a more comfortable workspace, something private,” said a voice behind Brandyn, and he nearly jumped out of the chair.

He did his best to downplay his startled reaction, facing the eager-to-please manager with an abrupt shake of the head. “No, no. Really I’m fine. I’m almost done.”

He positioned himself toward the manager in a way to block his view of the monitor. He made a mild expression of annoyance to signal the manager should just leave him alone.

“Yes, of course,” the manager said. “No worries. If you need anything – I sit right over there. Anything at all.”

“I’m good. I’m really good.”

“It’s so nice of you to visit from corporate. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Fifteen minutes later, Brandyn was several blocks away from the CAS Center in his car, pulled over to the side of the road, making a frantic phone call to his family.

Letty answered. Brandyn could hear the boys crying in the background.

She immediately said, “It’s a crazy house here. The chipfeed just stopped working. The kids are having a meltdown. I thought we had premium service. What the hell, Brandyn, this is your company.”

“I did it.”

“What?”

“I turned it off.”

“What do you mean you turned it off?”

“Listen, I can’t explain right now. Just do as I say. Take the boys and get out of the apartment. You need to leave. This is serious.”

“What on God’s earth is going on?”

“We’re going off the grid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Meet me – meet me—” He hesitated, not sure if the conversation was being bugged. Nothing was private these days. “Go to where we had our first date.”

“You mean the—”

“Don’t say it out loud. Just go there, now. As quick as you can. I’ll meet you there. Then I’ll explain everything.”

“Brandyn, you’re scaring me.”

“That’s because I am scared.”

She took in the panic of his tone. “Okay. Okay. We’ll leave now. And we’ll go there. See you soon.”

“I love you,” said Brandyn, and he hung up the phone.

* * *

Marc suddenly felt normal.

It was a startling sensation. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, because that’s what had just happened.

For the past eight hours, the four prisoners in the holding cell at the Vanover Federal Building had been ‘sandbagged’ – a chip signal sent to their brains and nervous system that effectively created the sensation of being weighed down to an almost total lack of mobility.

Marc, Aaron, Clarissa and Vance – the sole surviving guide from the attempted canoe escape – lay slumped against the wall in the small holding cell, awaiting their fate. The room was locked and guarded from the outside, but this was an extra measure on the inside to solidify their captivity by giving them a physical affliction that felt like being stuck in cement.

The two guards who occasionally visited them got a big kick out of it. They stood over their prisoners and poked and taunted them, knowing they were helpless to fight back.

It was like being strapped down by invisible chains. It wasn’t total paralysis – they could move, just barely, but every tiny motion was an enormous, exhausting strain.

“Tough tittie, honey,” one of the guards had said to Clarissa’s face, spewing bad breath into her nostrils before he groped her breast with a twisted smile. “Guess you can’t do nothing about it.” Clarissa had gritted her teeth, bugged her eyes, turned red and fought as hard as she could against the virtual barrier, vibrating like she was having some kind of convulsion as she struggled to unleash her pent-up fury. But she could barely raise her hand an inch. Her fingers could not curl into a fist. Her butt remained on the floor. The guard had laughed in her face.

But now the guards were somewhere else and the ‘sandbag’ signal had been abruptly cut off.

Marc regained normal motion. He moved his limbs. He looked at the others.

They, too, had returned to a full range of mobility. Clarissa started to stand up.

“Wait,” Marc said. “Stop.”

In a low voice, he instructed them to continue acting as though the ‘sandbag’ signal was still in effect. He told them about his conversation with Brandyn, the connection to Dynamica and the ability to secretly disable their chips.

Brandyn Handley had succeeded.

“Follow my lead,” Marc said very quietly. “Act like nothing’s changed. Don’t let them know. We’ll find our moment.”

He gradually slumped back to a limp, helpless position.

Clarissa slid back down to the floor. She sat passively, propped up against the wall, arms dropped at her sides. She exchanged a glance with Aaron, who nodded.

Vance said, “They still have guns and we don’t.”

“I’ll take that chance,” said Aaron.

“No more talking,” Clarissa said. “Everyone sit still and shut up.”

An hour passed, and then the door opened.

The two guards reappeared. They stepped into the room with big smiles.

“Good news,” said the slimy guard who had previously groped Clarissa. “We just received our orders. The president has approved your terminations.”

“Yep,” said the other, older guard with a trace of a southern accent. He patted the gun in his holster. “I would prefer the old-fashioned way, sticking you all in a firing line. But this’ll be a lot cleaner. The wonders of technology!”

“Time to go bye-bye,” the groper said. He held a jamming device, similar to the one Marc had previously owned. “A press of a button, and you are done. Easiest executions ever.”

He stepped over to Marc and said, “You first.”

In that moment, Marc had a flash of terror. What if his chip became operational again? What if only the ‘sandbag’ signal had been cut? How did he know for sure the termination command would fail?

The groper said to Marc, “Okay, asshole. Any final words?”

“I’m sorry….”

“Those are good final words,” said the groper.

“I’m sorry you’re a fucking idiot,” Marc said.

“Whoa.”

“I’m also sorry I had anything to do with this technology. I regret it, and I’m prepared to pay the price.”

“You’re just a douche bag. I’m turning you off now.” With a dramatic flourish, the groper tapped a command on his handheld device.

On cue, Marc slumped over on the floor and didn’t move.

He acted dead.

However, his mind was very much alive, filled with gratitude for Brandyn’s actions to save his life.

Marc made his breathing as shallow as possible, trying not to create any small movements in his chest.

From his ‘dead’ position on the floor, he was able to keep his eyes slightly open in thin slits. He watched the groper approach Aaron.

Aaron glared with simmering anger, remaining pseudo-paralyzed.

“Any last words?” the groper asked.

“Yeah,” said Aaron. “I want you to know—”

“Ah, shut up,” the groper said, and he poked the jamming device with his index finger.

Aaron, seeing the motion, promptly went limp and shut his eyes.

“Two down, two to go.” The groper stepped over to Vance. The second guard watched nearby with a big grin, fully entertained.

“Any last words?” asked the groper.

“No,” Vance responded.

“That counts as a last word.” Then the groper’s hands became engaged with activating the termination.

Vance tipped over and did not move.

The groper froze for a moment, startled. “I didn’t send the signal yet.”

Oh shit, thought Marc, witnessing the scene unfold.

The groper took a step toward Vance, curious, studying him. Vance remained very still.

Then the groper broke out in a big laugh. “Ha, the son of a bitch must’ve fainted before I terminated him!” He positioned his finger above the jammer’s interface and said, “Well, as long as you’re asleep, let’s just keep you there.” He poked the command on his device and said proudly, “Terminated!”

This left Clarissa.

The groper stepped over to her. She stared at him with a cold, dark stare. She pretended to struggle with lifting her arms.

“Last but not least,” the groper said.

“Yup,” chuckled the older guard, grinning, looking forward to watching one more body drop.

But the groper sent him away. “Terry, I’ll take care of this. I need you to go get the medical examiner. We need to declare some deaths. We don’t want any lingering comas here. We want fully, one hundred percent dead. Go get him, please.”

“Will do.” The older guard left the room, closing the door behind him.

The groper stared down at Clarissa. “I sent him away, because I think we need a moment of privacy.” He smiled, displaying dark teeth. He unbuckled his pants. “I like a good-looking young woman who submits passively to her man. I’m gonna give you a send-off, honey. Before you die, there’s going to be a happy ending.”

He started pulling down his white cotton underwear.

Aaron punched him in the back of the head from behind.

The groper stumbled and fell to the ground.

In a split second, all four prisoners attacked the groper and hammered him into unconsciousness, slamming his skull against the hard floor.

“Holy shit, is he disgusting,” Clarissa said.

“I’m getting his gun,” said Aaron, removing it from the guard’s holster.

“And I’m taking his jammer,” Marc said.

“You know how to work that thing?” Vance asked.

“Let’s just say I have some experience.”

The cell door opened, and the older guard appeared with a skinny man in a white smock, wearing rubber gloves and a stethoscope.

“You’re all supposed to be dead!” said the guard, entirely perplexed.

“No, sorry,” Aaron said, and he shot the guard squarely in the hip. The guard dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The medical examiner turned and ran.

Clarissa quickly snatched the fallen guard’s gun as he squirmed.

“We gotta move fast, there’s gonna be a whole lot of people on our ass,” Aaron said.

Marc, Aaron, Vance and Clarissa escaped from the holding cell. They entered a long corridor and began running. They could hear loud voices up ahead. They rounded a corner and immediately found themselves facing three more security guards with guns drawn. One of them fired, striking Vance in the forehead and spraying blood out the back of his skull. He went down hard. The remaining three prisoners immediately turned and retreated the way they came.

“Dammit, dammit,” exclaimed Aaron as he ran, shaken by the shooting he had just witnessed. “We need more guns.”

“No,” Marc said. “Follow me.” He led the others down a short side passage and ducked inside a recessed doorway that hid them from view for a moment. “We’ve got all we need right here.”

Marc activated the jamming device he had stolen from the groper. He called up the active chips in the immediate vicinity and began sending them signals from a special menu of law enforcement commands.

Clarissa screamed. A pair of security officers was suddenly on them, guns drawn.

In an instant, they lost all coordination as horrible, painful shocks jolted their brains. The two officers shrieked, dropped their guns and clutched their heads in unspeakable agony. They fell to the floor in thuds and writhed in anguish like worms speared on a hook.

“Nice,” said Clarissa, looking down at them as they squirmed at her feet.

Marc continued to work the jammer, sending powerful signals to every chip code within a three-hundred-foot radius. Marc heard pained reactions from multiple locations in the building, near and far. The range of yelps, shrieks, grunts, howls and hollers sounded like some kind of demented avant-garde chorus.

“Unbelievable,” Aaron said. He watched in awe as Marc rapidly activated each shockwave, disabling a dozen or more threats to their escape.

“Are you killing them?” Clarissa asked.

“No, just giving them a very big migraine.”

After a couple of minutes, Marc paused, still staring at the jammer. “I think that’s all of them for now. Let’s get out of here before they send the entire Army.”

* * *

As Brandyn Handley drove to his next destination, he listened to his car radio with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The country was headed toward World War III.

“Negotiations are in full collapse,” President Sheridan said. “Therefore, we will launch our missiles in exactly twenty-four hours. I will keep my promise to the American people.”

Brandyn pulled into the parking lot of a shuttered strip mall in Kearny, New Jersey. His family was waiting for him. They climbed out of the silver SUV. His wife was confused, the kids were whiny.

As Letty approached her husband, he was lost in a moment of nostalgia. He gestured to a recently shut down Walmart following the company’s bankruptcy. “This is it,” he said. “It was right there. It must’ve been fifteen years ago or more.”

“How could I forget?” Letty said.

“The Stardust Bowling Alley and Pinball Arcade,” Brandyn said. “Our first date. I had such a crush, all those amazing feelings for you – and not one of them came from a chip. They came from here.” He pointed to his heart. “Real love, what a concept.”

“So what’s going on?” Letty asked. “Everything is crazy enough with this war looming, and now you’re acting like a nut case. Please tell me why we’re here.”

“We’re going into hiding. We’re going to move into a motel a few miles from here. We’ll stay there for a while under an assumed name.”

“But why?”

Brandyn struggled to find the right words. “It might not be popular, but I think I need to save the world.”

“Oh great. You have gone crazy.”

“No. I’ve finally come to my senses.”

Letty turned to face the two boys, who were arguing and tussling over something meaningless at the other side of the car.

“Kids, I was right. Your dad is insane. Do you want a new dad?”

“Okay,” said one of the boys.

Brandyn smiled at his wife. “You don’t really mean that?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sad sigh. “I really don’t know anything anymore. You turned off my chip. Now I have to think for myself.”