Jules watched as the numbers around the three holographic images representing Alex and the two other clones in the canisters slowly ratcheted down to zero. Their holograms turned red and continued to blink in warning.
With his complete control over the New Reality computer systems, Jules certainly did not require Dr. Harding’s assistance to terminate the cloning project. He had only asked for his help to expedite the process.
Jules would not take his eye off the holograms until he knew the deed had been successfully completed. There could be no opposition to his rightful takeover of The New Reality and the ushering in of a great new Open Society. And with Alex disposed of, there would be no person who possessed the needed cunning and intellectual resilience to afford him any meaningful resistance.
“And it is said that I cried when I saw your tomb,” Jules scoffed aloud, referring to the legend that the original Julius Caesar wept after viewing the body of Alexander the Great in his sarcophagus. It was said that the Roman Emperor felt that he had accomplished relatively little compared to Alexander and wept at his own lack of achievement compared to this mighty, former king.
“You once controlled part of the ancient world,” Jules boasted, “Now I control all of the modern one.”
Jules felt a sense of great accomplishment. He had surpassed what either the original Julius Caesar or Alexander ever had hoped to achieve.
The three holographic images were now black in color with the words DECEASED written underneath.
That’s one less obstacle, Jules thought.
He then looked outside the computer room. The WOGs who were once attempting to break in had now dispersed, leaving the hallway empty. The planes flying above the building had also withdrawn.
A stand down order had been given by the WOG Supreme Commander after witnessing Myra’s and Kevin’s execution. The time to fight was over.
Though Jules had utmost confidence in himself, he still had some doubt about how The New Reality and rest of the world would react to the takeover. He then turned off all the security systems in the building and opened the doors to this room. Disengaging himself from the computer system, he took the necklace with the Achilles shield and placed it against his chest.
Jules slowly rose to his feet. The pain he once felt started to dissipate as his body began to regenerate. Slowly, he walked over to the door and down the hallway. There he noted the dead bodies of the technicians. They had been accidentally shot before they even knew what hit them.
The red lights had stopped blinking and an eerie silence filled the hall. Weaponless at this point, Jules slowly walked down the corridor and up the steps. If victory were to be his today, he needed to march into the control room of this complex with complete confidence.
A few bodies lay on the floor as he approached the room. Dried blood pooled around their mouths. Undoubtedly, they were also victims of the nanosplicers. The longer he walked, the more bodies he encountered. With so many people affected so quickly, it appeared most were simply left to die where they fell.
The door to the security room remained open. Entering without proper authorization was considered treason and dealt with in the harshest of manners. As if he were the original Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon River before taking Rome, he boldly crossed the threshold with his head held high.
The men and women inside were frantically attempting to restore some semblance of order amidst the chaos. As a few people lay dead on the floor, the screens around the room depicted scenes of joyful cheering across the globe. In Paris the citizens stood atop a few of the heliocrafts and poured champagne over each other’s head, while in New York people danced in the streets.
It was if a huge weight had been lifted. Fortunately, the demonstrations were mostly peaceful. With all the death caused currently by the nanosplicers and The Disease three years previously, no one seemed to want any more bloodshed. The WOGs had laid down their weapons peacefully and many even celebrated along with the rest of the citizens.
At first the men and woman in the security room had not noticed Jules’ entrance. However, once the people saw him, they stood up and began to clap. The clapping turned to cheers as everyone in the room soon noticed his presence. Though still sickly in appearance, he looked to them as a strong beacon of hope amidst all the uncertainty around them. With their fallen colleagues still at their feet, they welcomed Jules as not only their new leader but also as a savior.
The world had been through so much over the past few years, and the people longed for someone to lead them through these tough times. Even those most ardently loyal to The New Reality seemed to receive Jules without reserve.
Success!
He then raised his hand and quieted the crowd’s jubilation. In a humble demeanor, he declared, “We have all been through so much these past few days, and I pray all the suffering will end soon. My hearts go out to all of your families, loved ones, and to all those who recently lost their lives in this needless act of terrorism committed by Myra Keres.” He momentarily paused and said with a little more baritone, “Let us now move forward past this cowardly act of injustice perpetrated by former President Keres, past The Disease, and into a new era of peace and prosperity. An era of true intellectual Renaissance and personal freedoms open to all within our great society and not subject to further government interference.”
The people in the room again showed their accolades.
“Karl Popper once said,” Jules continued, interrupting the applause, “‘True ignorance is not the absence of knowledge, but the refusal to acquire it.’ In the great Open Society, which we as The New Reality are going to create, there will be no more ignorance. People will once again be free to pursue knowledge without governmental scrutiny and control. Man was meant to live free and this freedom shall now be granted to all.”
In a more grandiose manner, he concluded at a loud pitch, “Let The New Reality’s Open Society commence!”
Cheers once again filled the room.
Many of the people hugged one another and smiled while others approached Jules and shook his hand. His hostile takeover of The New Reality was complete.
“President Windsor,” someone from behind him announce.
The title delighted Jules’ ears, and he turned to see who requested his attention.
While many continued to pat him on the back and adorn him with adulation, a single man stood behind him with a concerned look upon his face. Not interested in the screens around the room, the bodies on the floor, or the holographic displays on the consoles, he held the object of his attention.
With his hands around the shield of Achilles, he held it out in front of him as if presenting a magnificent gift meant for a king. With a stern look upon his face, he held it tightly in his grip, almost reluctant to relinquish the ancient prize.
“Thank you,” Jules barely acknowledged, believing the man had brought it to him as a gift of honor.
With little interest in either the shield or the man, Jules was already plotting the most effective method to roll out the Open Society and restructure The New Reality. These material gifts meant nothing to him. Just like Myra Keres, and even Albert Rosenberg, power and control were his main objectives.
While others in the room continued to shake Jules’ hand or pat him affectionately on the back, the man with the shield persisted next to him.
Wanting to rid himself of this nuisance, Jules attempted to amuse the man by saying, “Did you know that shield used to belong to the former president of this company, Albert Rosenberg?”
The man solemnly responded, “Sir, in all due respect, this object is no shield. And if we don’t figure out what it is, the person who does will be occupying the new office you have just taken.”
Jules immediately focused in on the shield, tuning out everything and everyone around him. Suddenly, nothing else was as important as the object this man held in his hands. After ridding himself of Alex Pella, he thought that he had disposed of any further viable threats to his new title.
Shaking his head, Jules could only muster a single thought.
Albert Rosenberg.