Chapter Twenty-Nine

Brandyn received a cryptic text message from a ‘Joan Stone’, requesting his immediate presence at an unfamiliar address in Midtown Manhattan. The meeting request was on behalf of ‘Big Be Bop Buddy’.

He instantly recognized this to be a reference to Marc, who had taken him to the old-fashioned Big Be Bop jazz club more than two years ago for their final, secret meeting after Marc quit Dynamica.

At the same time Brandyn received this text, his phone was exploding with messages from Jeff Reese and the Dynamica security team with the news that Marc had escaped custody.

“The fun never ends…” said Brandyn, and he quickly drove into Manhattan after securing his family in a motel room under false identities.

He found a parking spot and walked the sidewalk until he reached the address he was given.

“What the hell. Really?”

His ears were assaulted by the loud chaos of dozens of barking dogs, everything from deep woofs to high-pitched yips. The sign in the storefront window said: Furry Friends Pet Rescue.

He stood at the door for a moment, staring at a big picture of a doe-eyed Shih Tzu. He was stuck in uncertainty. Then the door opened a crack and a familiar voice said, “Get the hell in here!”

He entered.

Marc was inside the pet shelter with three other people and about sixty dogs and cats, many of them roaming freely in a happy, tail-wagging commotion.

Brandyn stepped through the animals and reached Marc with a rough embrace. “It worked.”

“You saved our lives.”

“For now, anyway.”

Marc introduced Brandyn to Aaron, Clarissa and Kathryn Sedak.

“Don’t worry,” said Marc about Kathryn. “She’s anti-chip.”

“Nice place you got here,” Brandyn told her, trying not to trip over a poodle.

“She got us a change of clothes,” said Marc. He and the other former prisoners were no longer wearing the orange jumpsuits.

“You should keep away from the windows – go in the back. There’s a small office, just past the kennels,” Kathryn said. “No one will see you.”

“I don’t like cats,” Clarissa said, staring down at the furry sea of animals swarming around her.

“They sure like you,” Aaron said.

The four of them gathered in a small, messy office beyond the maze of animal cages. It had a couch, two chairs and a desk. Everything was coated in animal hair.

“Who’s Joan Stone?” Brandyn asked as they settled into the room.

“It’s just a phone I stole,” Marc said. “I used the jammer on a woman on the sidewalk. I didn’t hurt her, just distracted her and took her phone so I could text you.”

“I have to ask you something. Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Tell who?”

“At the interrogation. Why didn’t you just tell them it was me who gave you the jammer device?”

“Because I made a promise not to.”

“But they were torturing the shit out of you.”

“I made a promise the day you gave it to me.”

“You’re weird.”

“Oh no,” Clarissa said. She faced a TV monitor mounted on the wall, displaying the news. “It’s Bozo.”

Dale Sheridan was continuing his countdown to war.

“In eighteen hours, we will launch our missiles. If there is any retaliation or interference, we will broaden our attack to hit our enemies fast and hard at strategic targets in ways they will deeply regret.”

“Do you think it’s really a spy satellite?” Aaron asked.

“Who knows?” said Brandyn. “Maybe yes, maybe no. In any case, it’s going to start a big war, and we don’t have a lot of global allies right now.”

On the television, Sheridan continued: “Through the power of technology, our military is second to none. Unified by the chip, loyal to every mission, fearless in the face of danger, our fighting men and women will be unstoppable. If war is inevitable, I say bring it on.”

“We’re blowing up the wrong satellite,” Aaron mumbled.

The statement caused Marc to cock his head. “You’re right.” He looked over at Brandyn. “He’s right.”

“I know,” said Brandyn. “It’s sad, but true.”

“So can we do something about it?”

“Blow up our own satellite? What, the four of us?”

“Maybe.”

“How?”

“Can we redirect the missiles?”

“How are we going to do that?”

Clarissa faced Marc and Brandyn. “You guys are so good at getting into people’s heads…get into somebody’s head and change their minds.”

“It’s not that easy,” Marc said.

“Well, wait,” Brandyn said. “Maybe it is. Let me think.”

On the television news, a countdown clock began running at the bottom of the screen, displaying the number of hours, minutes and seconds before the promised missile launch.

Brandyn began pacing the small room. “There’s…there’s a test in the works. It’s part of the way we code. We can program for moods, feelings and perceptions, but not at the level of specific actions. We’re working to create a way to trick the brain into believing a piece of information and taking action through a line of code. It’s meant to treat people with phobias and mental blocks, but….”

“So how do we do this?” Aaron asked.

“We don’t do anything. It’s being developed by our scientists. I – I’m not a programmer,” said Brandyn. “I just know the players. It’s an initiative led by Dr. Higgins.”

“Higgins?” Marc said. “The ‘Father of the Chip’?”

Brandyn nodded.

“So let’s get this Higgins guy to help us,” Aaron said.

Marc said, “It’s not that easy. He’s not on our side. I tricked him into removing my chip, and it was not good. He was part of the raid at my apartment that tried to stick it back in. I had to subdue him…with a laughing fit.”

“What?” said Aaron.

“He’s not going to be on board with this,” Marc said. “Not at all.”

“How about,” Clarissa said, “if we persuade him?” She held up the gun she had taken from the security guard at the federal building.

Brandyn gave her a long look. Then he shrugged. “Could work.”

* * *

Dr. Rance Higgins awoke to a gun in his face.

“Don’t move.”

“Can I – can I put on my glasses?” he asked, trying to discern the fuzzy images in front of him. He lay flat in his bed, head sunk in a big pillow.

“Slowly.”

Higgins reached over to his nightstand for his glasses and put them on.

The faces before him came into view, forming a semi-circle around the bed.

“You,” he said.

Marc made a half smile and shrugged. “Yeah. Me.”

“We need your help with something,” Brandyn said.

“Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

Clarissa kept the gun pointed at his head. Aaron stood at her side.

“No,” said Marc. “But we’d like to think you’ll want to cooperate for other reasons – like saving your country and maybe the world.”

“That’s quite a pitch, marketing man.”

“How would you like to prevent World War III?”

“It’s two o’clock in the morning. Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Is this about the missile launch?”

“Yes.”

“The president is just protecting the people. He’s protecting our chips. We don’t want our brains to be hacked into by other countries and force-fed their agendas, do we? This is a serious threat.”

“We know another way to stop the threat,” Brandyn said.

“And what’s that?”

“We blow up our own satellite. Bring down the whole system.”

Higgins took a long moment to absorb this statement. Then he let out a big exhale. “That’s…a brazen concept.”

“We blow it up. We disable every chip so there are no signals to hack. We render the entire chip system inoperable.”

“I don’t like this,” said Higgins.

Marc held up a jamming device. “We can make you like it.”

“You son of a bitch, that laughing fit you gave me nearly ruptured my spleen.”

“Listen,” Brandyn said. “We don’t have a lot of time. This is the best solution we have.”

“But how are you going to redirect the missiles?”

“You’re going to write a line of code.”

“For who?”

“For the president, the secretary of defense, the Pentagon.”

“How naïve are you? That’s not possible. You would need the personal access numbers of every one of those individuals, and they’re highly classified. It can’t be done. Sure, I could write a line of code to influence a specific desire to redirect those missiles. But I don’t have access to President Sheridan’s personal account. I can’t hand-select who gets a signal. The only way to do it would be to send the code to everybody – everyone who receives the satellite feed in one massive go.”

Marc brightened. “Sounds good to me.”

“What?”

“We send it to everybody. That way we know he gets it and anyone else who needs to support this.”

“Gentlemen,” said Higgins, and then he nodded toward Clarissa, who still pointed the gun at him, “and lady. Please listen to me. All of this brainstorming is cute, but the reality is we’re still in a test phase with this. I can’t guarantee any of it is going to work.”

“Do you agree that it’s worth a try?” Aaron asked.

Higgins made an uncomfortable, noncommittal face, and finally said, “Not really.”

Clarissa brought the gun closer to his head. “Do you agree that you’d like to continue living?”

Higgins looked down at his burgundy plaid flannel sleepwear. “Can I change out of my pajamas?”

“If you can do it fast,” Marc said.

* * *

The five of them crammed into Brandyn’s car and sped to Princeton, New Jersey to enter The Brain, AKA Dynamica’s Core Applications and Systems Center.

Brandyn responded to messages on his phone from his employer, agreeing that it was horrible to hear about Marc Tefteller’s escape and explaining away his own absence from the office as a bad bout of the flu.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they realized he had disconnected the signal feeds and linked him to Marc’s escape. Until that happened, he was making one more visit to the high-security facility that managed the nation’s chipfeed accounts and coding.

They arrived as the night shift was turning over and the day shift was arriving. Brandyn and Higgins used their maximum security clearances to also gain entry for Aaron, Clarissa and Marc. The latter was disguised in hat and dark sunglasses to conceal his identity so no one in the building would recognize him as the company’s former Chief Marketing Officer and current Public Enemy Number One.

As they made their way through the endless aisles of programmers and monitors, looking for an empty chair to fill, Clarissa noticed television screens on the wall displaying the news with the countdown clock prominently featured.

“We have less than thirty minutes,” she said in a harsh whisper.

Aaron took her hand. “It’s okay. We’re going to make it.”

“You’re certainly optimistic,” growled Higgins. “And it’s not your experiment.”

Brandyn found an open chair. “I’ll log in here,” he said. “I’ll get us in – then Rance, you do your magic.”

“There are no guarantees…” he started.

“Except for the guarantee we will blow your brains out if this doesn’t work,” Clarissa said.

“No pressure,” muttered Higgins.

Brandyn used his access badge and codes to enter the core systems application. Then he surrendered the chair to Higgins.

Higgins sat down as the others crowded around him.

An ongoing flow of programmers walked by, reporting to work, giving curious glances to the huddled group and moving on.

Then one of the arriving programmers stopped at the desk and stared. He was a young man in his twenties with a ponytail.

“You’re in my spot.”

Brandyn quickly turned and addressed him. “No worries. I’m Brandyn Handley, head of operations.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely. But we need your station for a moment. Why don’t you get a donut or some coffee, we won’t be long.”

“I don’t eat donuts or drink coffee.”

“As the highest-ranking leader in your division, I order you to go get yourself a donut and coffee, now.” Brandyn flashed a don’t-mess-with-me expression.

The young programmer nodded, shrugged and left in search of donuts and coffee.

“How long is this going to take?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know,” snapped Higgins.

“The countdown clock says fifteen minutes.”

“You’re not helping!”

Brandyn stepped back and motioned Marc over for a private conversation.

“I just realized what we’re doing,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re doing the very thing that scares us about this technology. Mass distribution of a single thought to manufacture a point of view – it’s brainwashing.”

Marc nodded. “I don’t disagree.”

“We’re going to brainwash the entire country with one forced perspective. That’s a pretty dangerous concept.”

“But not for long,” Marc said. “Because after we blow up the satellite, it’s never going to happen again. This is the last time.”

They continued to hover over Higgins. The countdown clock steadily advanced toward the deadline. Higgins worked with intense focus, fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard. Perspiration dotted his forehead.

“Eight minutes!” Clarissa said.

“Stop doing that in my ear!” Higgins said.

“How close are you?” asked Aaron.

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes, maybe ten.”

“Ten won’t do.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Then Brandyn said, “Oh, shit.” His eyes locked on something at the far end of the room.

Marc followed his gaze and discovered activity at the front entrance to the data center. There was a swell of people filling the doorway, prepared to burst in.

They were soldiers, dressed in green-and-gray combat fatigues. They were heavily armed.

“I think we’ve been discovered,” Marc said.

“Do you still have the jammer?” Brandyn asked.

“Yes, but there are so many of them, I don’t think I can—”

Clarissa whirled to face the other end of the data room, reaching for her gun.

Company programmers witnessed the sudden commotion with armed soldiers and quickly pulled away from their stations in a confused panic.

“Shit, they have a lot of guns,” said Clarissa. “Really big guns.”

“I think I’ve got it!” Higgins said.

“Send the code!” shouted Marc.

The soldiers stormed the room. The entire area erupted into pandemonium.

Aaron grabbed Clarissa’s hand. “Pretend you’re a programmer!”

“What?” she said.

“Hide the gun, follow me.”

In the chaos of stampeding soldiers and scattering programmers, Aaron led Clarissa to a couple of nearby workstations, recently abandoned.

“Play on the keyboard, pretend like you work here,” Aaron said.

Clarissa did as she was told. The soldiers ignored them. They rushed at the Dynamica trio of Marc, Brandyn and Higgins, who were still huddled at the workstation. The three of them were tracking a rapidly scrolling line of code, representing the release of a forced perspective on the full body of chipped citizens in the United States.

“Hey, I think it worked,” said Higgins, pleased with his own successful execution. Then he was grabbed by two soldiers and thrown to the ground.

Marc and Brandyn were also apprehended and shoved to the floor. They landed alongside Higgins. Angry voices shouted at them not to move. Rifles were pointed into their faces.

Marc shut his eyes, expecting a bullet to the brain.

But then everyone was distracted.

The soldiers and the programmers all froze in the moment to watch the large television monitors mounted on the walls.

The president’s countdown clock had reached zero.

Live cameras captured the launch of the missiles.

The cavernous data-systems room fell into an immediate, eerie silence as everyone watched.

Aaron and Clarissa stared from their neighboring workstations, bridged by holding hands.

Marc, Brandyn and Higgins watched from the floor, trying to get a good look past the guns obscuring their vision.

On the television monitors, accompanying live footage of missiles soaring into the sky, a Breaking News statement flashed at the bottom of the screen.

PRESIDENT DECLARES NEW MISSILE TARGET: DYNAMICA SATELLITE.

At the appearance of the president’s proclamation, the entire room broke out into loud cheering.

From the floor, Higgins said proudly, “It worked. It worked. I’m a genius.”

Still pressed into the ground, Marc and Brandyn exchanged smiles of relief. “We did it,” said Marc. “We got inside their heads.”

Aaron and Clarissa watched the news coverage, eyes glued on the screen.

The camera feed showed fiery slivers of light against the blue sky, representing the missiles as they climbed ever higher into the atmosphere.

Clarissa squeezed Aaron’s hand tighter. And then:

The missiles struck their target.

A big, dramatic, colorful explosion filled the screens across the data center.

The crowd cheered again, this time louder and more raucously, dancing and waving their arms.

The screen read: DYNAMICA SATELLITE DESTROYED.

With everyone extremely distracted, including the soldiers who had apprehended them, Marc, Brandyn and Higgins quietly removed themselves from the floor. They slipped out of the nest of soldiers, who continued to obsessively watch the live coverage of the satellite explosion as it replayed in slow motion like a celebratory fireworks display.

Aaron and Clarissa recognized their opportunity to escape as well and quickly left the workstations to join the others on their way out of the building.

Once outside, they ran for the car and they squeezed inside.

Brandyn started up the engine. He turned on the radio as he peeled out of the parking lot and headed for the main road.

A newscaster delivered the latest developments with uncontrollable enthusiasm. “All of America is rejoicing following the president’s decision to bring down the satellite that once captured our imaginations….”

“I think we just united the country,” said Marc.

“By giving everyone one last common thought,” Aaron said.

“At least we know there won’t be any others.”

“Just our own thinking and feeling for a change,” Clarissa said. “It’s about time.”

“I guess I’m out of a job now,” Brandyn said.

“And you’ve pretty much killed my career,” said Higgins.

“So we’ll start a new venture,” Marc suggested. “Some kind of start-up.”

“I’m on board,” Brandyn said. “As long as it’s something small.”

“Aaron, Clarissa, want to join our startup?” Marc asked. “I don’t know what it is, but if we’re lucky, it won’t become as successful as Dynamica.”

“No way,” Clarissa said. “If it has anything to do with technology, you can leave me out.”

“Same here,” said Aaron. He looked over at Clarissa and smiled. She smiled too, which he hadn’t seen in a long time. He couldn’t help it then – he leaned over and gave her a long kiss.

“My chip is receiving some incredible signals right now,” she said.

“Oh really? How’d you like to subscribe?”

“Sign me up.”