THE AURORA CITY
by
E.R. Mason
The Aurora City
by
E.R. Mason
Copyright 2013 by E.R. Mason
All rights reserved
All characters in this book are fictional
and any resemblance to persons living
or dead is purely coincidental
ISBN: 978-0-615-81218-
2
EDITOR:
Joe Summars
FLUXFAZE Creative Enterprises, LLC
http://www.fluxfaze.com
contact info:
jcsummars@fluxfaze.com
COVER ART:
Futuristic City 2
by
Scott Richard
to view more fantastic futuristic
art by Scott Richard visit:
http://rich35211.deviantart.com/
Chapter 1
They looked like the men-in-black.
Shadowy individuals you only hear
about from people who claim to have
witnessed UFOs. Their ivory skin was
sharply contrasted by dark, precisely
cut hair, coal black suits, and dark
sunglasses. They were
disproportionately tall. All along the jog
route they had been occasional ghosts
in the shadows, feigning disinterest in
Scott Markman’s passing, but at the
same time seeming to want him to
notice.
Markman cruised past the horse
head mailbox on Bradbur Avenue,
grabbing at the stop watch dangling
from his waist. Twenty-four minutes at
the four-mile mark. The Florida sun
was now above the treetops, back
dropped by clear blue. Pristine green
lawns and well-trimmed flower gardens
offered pride for the middle class
neighborhood. The morning air was
losing its cool. Markman turned the
corner back toward the home of
Professor Cassell where his cold, home-
brewed energy drink waited.
Even from a distance, the
Professor’s place was a mess. The home
was being expanded to almost twice its
size. Lumber and brick were
everywhere. Carpenters were beating
on things as trucks came and went. A
chain saw was grinding away. The smell
of sawdust met Markman as he ran.
Two more MIB were waiting a short
way down the street, parked in the
shade of a giant elm. They sat in an
unmarked black sedan. Markman
decided to slow and take refuge behind
a pest control truck, his back against
the rear doors. He bent over to catch
his breath and then dared to steal a
glance around the side. They had not
seen him approach. They were not
speaking to or even looking at each
other. Markman tugged at his black
jogging pants, and unzipped the long-
sleeved sweat jacket. Subconsciously,
he touched the center of his forehead,
checking for the bruise that had been
there, an injury now fully healed. It
would be easy enough to sneak up on
these guys and surprise them. Years of
growing up near a Tibetan monastery
in Lhasa had impressed those kinds of
talents on Markman. Perhaps in this
case discretion was the better part of
valor. These guys had been popping up
for weeks now with no indication of
what they were after. Maybe it was
time to force the issue. Markman
jogged out from behind the van to
discover the mysterious sedan had
somehow disappeared. A solitary, odd-
shaped puff of cloud drifted by
overhead. The roadway was clear of
cars as far as the eye could see. There
was no sound of traffic anywhere, only
the busy hammering of the carpenters.
At the Cassell’s, no one was home.
Markman’s life companion, Cassiopia
Cassell, and her father, Professor
Cassell were on travel to a conference
concerning the use of autonomous
machines in war. Only the Professor’s
TEL robot and its beloved adopted
beagle were inside.
How many months had it been
since the devastating airplane crash
that had left him and Cassiopia on a
frozen mountain top with no hope of
rescue? How long since Cassiopia had
somehow dragged his unconscious body
down that mountain and into the hands
of rescuers? There was unfinished
business left from that. Intimate
personal commitments had been made.
Lifetime devotions implied. It was
possible he was expected to ask her to
marry him now. At the same time, it
was impossible to anticipate what was
going on in her high IQ brain. It did not
bother him that she was so much
smarter than he. Women always
matured more quickly than men. It was
nature’s way of preventing men from
accidentally killing themselves before
reaching maturity. It was only natural
that women were generally smarter
about some things.
But, marriage was not something
Markman had ever considered. What
did it mean, really? Was it simply a
contract between two people to secure
personal finances? It seemed like that
was what it meant to some. What
would it mean to Cassiopia? Would he
have to take orders? Would there be a
schedule of sorts? Attend dinner
parties? In some ways Cassiopia was
even more a recluse than he. She had
said their plan would be to have no
plan, but he couldn’t recall where or
when she had said that, or even if she
really had. Fortunately this was not
something that had to be decided right
away. In fact, if he was careful, this
could probably be dragged out for a
very long time.
Markman abruptly stopped in the
middle of the street, dumbfounded. A
stark realization set in. It was
frightening. He suddenly realized he
wanted to ask Cassiopia to marry him.
An oncoming car honked.
Embarrassed, he waved and hurried to
the sidewalk. In a daze, he looked
around and down at his stop watch.
That twenty-four minutes at the four-
mile mark meant he was now fully
recovered. He could have run further.
He headed for the front door and
slowed as he approached, pulling the
blue cloth key strap from around his
neck. At the door, he took pause.
Something felt out of place. The
banging of construction continued.
Maybe that was it. Or, maybe the
thought of proposing to Cassiopia had
instilled a certain fear. Instincts
suggesting danger could not be
ignored, however. They had saved him
too many times. Markman backed out
and headed for the rear entrance.
The back door was unlocked. It
should not have been. He twisted the
knob, pushed it open, and took a step
back. The Professor’s home had been
broken into before. With all the
construction going on, that would make
an intrusion even easier now.
He waited a few moments outside
the door. No assault seemed to be
forthcoming. He edged in sideways and
listened, mentally blocking out the
noise from outside.
The place was quiet. He switched
sides in the hallway and brushed one
hand along the edge of the hall table as
he went. He stopped and listened
again, but picked up nothing. The door
to the basement was directly across
from him. It was shut and locked. From
his position, he could just see out the
windows of the front door. To his
amazement, the black sedan with the
men in black had returned. Its two
occupants were reading folded up
newspapers. Markman shrugged off his
apprehension and walked to the front
door window, peering out at the
mysterious figures. A voice from the
living room startled him.
“They are waiting for me, nothing
more.”
Markman lurched back and raised
his hands in defense, then sidestepped
to get a better look into the living
room.
A strange man sat on the couch,
the silver TEL robot stood glistening
beside him. The man’s dress looked
Victorian, a single-breasted dark-brown
morning jacket over a striped light-
brown vest with a starched white shirt
and narrow bow tie. He wore light
brown plaid trousers covering deep
brown boots. A pocket watch and chain
were attached to a button on his vest,
and a dark derby hat sat on the
cushion beside him. He paused to sip
something from one of the Professor’s
antique tea cups, holding the saucer in
one hand and the cup in the other.
“Your TEL robot was kind enough
to prepare this for me. I asked him to
bring me your favorite, as well,” he
said. He gestured toward a second cup
on the coffee table.
“How did you get in here? Who are
you?”
“My name may as well be John
Paul. Won’t you sit? It will be a
discussion of some length, I think.”
Markman held his place and
searched for others. There was no one.
“How did you get in here?”
“Your most amiable TEL robot
invited me in. There’s something
peculiar about this machine, have you
realized that?”
“The TEL is programmed to stay
out of sight and not to let anyone in.
How did you get in here?”
The intruder remained casual and
sipped his tea. He winced in delight and
held up one hand. “They all have a
global password built into one of the
BIOS routines. They came from the
factory that way. Few people are aware
of it. I used it to assure the TEL that I
meant no harm. By the way, the
organization I represent is the real
reason Professor Cassell was allowed to
keep this robot after the TEL
Corporation was destroyed.”
“I don’t know you from Adam. Why
shouldn’t I call the police right now and
have you arrested?”
“Because you and I need to have a
long talk about the world and our
places in it.”
“What?”
“Please, Mr. Markman, won’t you
sit and try your drink before it cools?”
Markman sensed no aggression.
He had been thinking of confronting
those following him, anyway. Clearly
this was an opportunity to find out
what was going on. He entered the
living room and slowly took a seat
facing the strange man. The man’s
expression was slightly weathered, but
content. Dark brown eyes
complimented the antique suit. His face
and hands were heavily lined but had
good color. He seemed to be in his
fifties or sixties but unusually healthy
and vibrant for that age.
Markman sat back and folded his
hands. The TEL robot continued to
stand passively by. “Okay. Let’s have it.
What do you and your friends want?”
“That one is easy. We need your
help.”
“Who is we?”
“That one’s not so easy.”
“So start at the beginning and stop
when you get to the end.”
The man smiled at Markman’s
impertinence. He stared and sipped, in
no hurry to reply. Finally, he began.
“Because of some of the federal agency
affairs you were exposed to before your
recent accident, along with your own
quite exotic knowledge base gained
from your unorthodox upbringing, I am
allowed to offer you access to some
very sensitive information about the
world around us, its myths, and its
subversive reality. You understand that
the world is a collage of paradigms built
atop larger paradigms?”
“What?”
“Pictures hidden within pictures.
The real world is made up of them.”
“Personally, I tend to take things
at face value.”
“And that philosophy has served
you well, Mr. Markman. Nevertheless,
the world you know is supposedly
managed by its governments,
governments that in reality have little
influence over the course of society.
Most people feel protected by their
elected governments, but the truth is
they are only superficial paradigms that
hide the true nature of this world. That
is, governments are the most visible,
most widely believed illusion, one that
conceals the real truth.”
Markman lifted his cup, sipped and
waited.
“The top layer of this reality
paradigm I speak of, would be those
world governments and the
misconception that they regulate the
world. In reality, world governments
are merely a means for the peoples of
the world to interact with those who
actually control it. Even in
democracies, people are allowed to
vote, but only on the choices permitted
them by the groups who are really in
power.”
“I’m not liking your view of the
world very much, Mr. Paul. Are you
trying to say that a shadow
government controls the world? And
why am I having this conversation with
a stranger who entered our home
without having been invited?”
“It is not my view of the world,
Scott. It is only the truth. And, I would
not use your choice of words. Shadow
government suggests a unified
organization. The global tier we are
talking about that is one step above the
world governments could not be
construed as any form of government
at all. You might call it the aristocracy
tier. It consists of groups or
conglomerates of wealthy, powerful
people. Not all the wealthy are a part
of it, just those concerned with their
own enrichment and power first, and
the welfare of the world and its people
second, if at all. Many of them believe
that the law of the jungle is the natural
way of things, and that the world is a
place provided for ambitious people to
practice their skills by accumulating
wealth and control over others. These
people are just as disloyal to each
other as they are to the general
population. You can visualize this
higher tier of power by imagining a
weather radar map. Storm cells form,
divide, break up, and reform
continuously. It is the same with the
conglomerates who manipulate the
world for their own ambitions.” Paul
paused to take a drink. He replaced it
on the table very slowly and very
precisely and watched Markman for
reaction. Markman sat silently and
returned a skeptical stare.
“And now for a leap of faith that
should not be too difficult for you, Mr.
Markman. There is a third tier, above
and invisible to the two tiers below it,
and far more powerful. You could call
this third tier the Celestial tier. Where
the first two tiers consist entirely of
humans, the celestial tier is comprised
of both very evolved humans and non-
humans as well.”
“You’re beginning to lose me, Mr.
Paul. You may have the wrong address
and the wrong person for this talk.”
“Oh come now, Scott. After your
spiritual upbringing in Tibet? The things
you were taught and witnessed there?
And, you seem to subscribe to a belief
in the current version of the Bible, as
well. In it, do not angels visit the Earth
quite often? Are not demons cast out
repeatedly? Firmaments in the
heavens? Chariots of fire? And of
course, there’s your last involvement
with Ms. Ann Rogers and her federal
agency. You discovered an early
invasion of Salantian creatures who
were using extraterrestrial vortport
technology to enter Earth. How can you
possibly deny the existence of alien,
nonhuman life forms, if that’s what
you’re implying?”
“You seem to know an awful lot
about me, Mr. Paul.”
“My group is an operating arm for
the Celestial tier. We have access to
technology and resources that are
beyond those you are familiar with. We
know more about you than you do,
Scott.”
“And why are we having this
conversation again?”
“As I said before, we need your
help with something extremely
important. Something you are more
than familiar with.”
“It amazes me that this is the
second time I’ve had to say this to
someone, but why would people at your
level need my help with anything?”
“Call it a curiosity of destiny, if
you like. In life, occasionally only one
specific, unique equation will fit a
problem. In this case, you are that
equation.”
“Tell me something, if you
represent a level of authority so high
and so advanced it is secretly managing
the world, why are such terrible things
allowed to go on down here? I could
mention 9/11.”
“We operate apart from and above
the laws of any government. The rules
are very different for us. We fall under
the umbrella of the non-interference
tenets. Do you know what the most
basic law in the design of this world is,
Scott?”
“Live and let live?”
“Not bad. But what I meant was,
what is the most underlying tenet that
life here is based on. The answer is,
free will. This world is fundamentally
designed around the theme of free will.
That is why there is so much suffering.
You can tell a child a thousand times
that if he touches the flame he will
harm himself, but sooner or later that
child will try it. It’s the same if you tell
someone something they desperately
want is bad for them. If you refuse to
let them have it, they will spend their
lifetime thinking you’re wrong. So in
the larger scheme of things, there has
to be a vehicle, a realm of experience
where free will is allowed to rule. And
in the multitude of mistakes that
follow, both the victims and those who
err learn. So why do we not intercede
when terrible things are about to
happen? That would be overruling the
very reason this short-term world of
experience came to be. Our job is to
preserve the system, not interfere with
it.”
Paul studied Markman as he
paused for another sip from his cup.
“The worst problems occur when people
firmly believe they are right about
something even though they are not.
They have the maturity to reason out
that the action is wrong, but either
they do not think it through or they are
so overwhelmed with desire they
cannot. For one reason or another,
they believe their idea is correct and no
friend, enemy, or teacher can change
that. In those cases, nothing will ever
change their mind except the
consequences from actually making the
mistake. They will not advance beyond
the misconception until they do. They
will not understand until they touch the
flame.”
“And so, such terrible things must
happen every day?”
“Yes. But, there is much more
angelic intervention than anyone
realizes.”
“Still, the suffering in this world is
a hard thing to accept, Mr. Paul.”
“And for that reason, life in this
experience is kept quite short,
especially from the point of view of
eternal beings, which all humans are.”
“It’s been a very long time since
I’ve heard anyone talk in terms like
you’re using, Mr. Paul.”
Paul gently put down his cup. “I
am telling you these things so you will
have some understanding of who I
work for and why we are here. Because
of the knowledge you already possess, I
can explain quite a bit, but I am not at
liberty to tell you everything as long as
you remain a part of this world, which
brings us to the first real difficulty.
There are two ways we can proceed.
One is that you join us in which case I
can be very forthcoming in answering
your questions. The second choice is
that you do not join us but you agree
to help us. In that context, I can give
you some answers, but not all, and
everything we discuss must remain
absolutely confidential. A third
possibility is that you decline our
request, but I do not think you will do
that.”
“If I were to consider joining this
secret, far-fetched organization you
claim to belong to, what would it cost
me?”
“You would give up your current
life completely. A cover story would be
created to explain your sudden
absence, one that was the least
traumatic to family and friends. And,
you could never return.”
“Why would anyone ever do that?”
“So that you could devote yourself
to the greater good without the
constraints of domestic existence.”
“I think I need Cassiopia here to
translate for me.”
“No, Scott. That is why we
arranged to be here without her being
present. You must understand all of
this yourself. These decisions are too
serious.”
“And you understand that I do not
trust you, and this all sounds
completely ridiculous, don’t you?”
“Of course. You are not a gullible
man. That’s why we’re taking this one
step at a time. As I’ve said, there are
two ways we can work together. You
have the option to join us, or not.”
“Give up this life, join a celestial
group of beings, and become a ghost?
Even if you really are who you claim to
be, I doubt that’s going to happen.”
“It’s not a decision anyone should
make lightly. You need to take some
time. There is more to know before you
decide.”
“Is it just me, or are you trying to
recruit Cassiopia, too?”
“The three of you, actually.
Professor Cassell has been getting too
far ahead of the rest of the world for
quite some time now. Were he not so
responsible about it, we would have
had to intervene already.”
“So you do interfere. I thought
you did not?”
“Only when the construct of the
design of this world is threatened.
When someone discovers something, or
embarks on something so advanced
that it will change, or interfere with the
purpose of this world, we intercede in
those cases.”
“You’re saying you know
something about the Professor’s work?”
“The inter-dimensional doorway he
has created in his secret laboratory
downstairs? Of course. In fact, it has
been a blessing. We have a similar
resource, although it’s in the shape of a
recovered spacecraft rather than an
actual door like the Professor’s, but we
are not allowed to use it the way an
Earth-resident human is. That would be
a violation of the non-interference
tenet. When Ms. Cassell and Ms. Rogers
recently used that doorway to prevent
nuclear chaos in Washington, I cannot
tell you how relieved we all were. We
would have had to allow that just as we
had to allow 9/11.”
“My God!”
“Ultimately, yes.”
“What?”
“You have a question?”
“When I said, my God, you said,
ultimately yes. What did you mean?”
“Scott, I’m taking up a lot of your
time.”
“I’m starting not to mind so much.
You didn’t answer my question.”
“Perhaps we should get on to the
reason we need your help. That will
confirm to you who we are.”
“By all means, continue.”
“As I’ve said, before your
unfortunate aircraft accident, you were
involved in an investigation with
Federal Agent Ann Rogers and the
agency she works for. They drafted you
as an outsider so that the people they
were after would not identify you as an
agent.”
“You know, I still wonder exactly
how I got into that mess.”
“Working for Rogers, you managed
to gain entry to an illegal organization
called the Dragon Masters, and using a
piece of borrowed equipment, known as
a sensesuit, you entered into the
Dragon Master computer games. During
the entry phase of the first game you
were defaulted to a selection called The
Aurora City.”
“I was told never to discuss any of
this.”
“Yes. We were the ones who told
you never to discuss it. That special,
computerized suit allowed you to get
inside a computer world, an extremely
sophisticated simulation of an actual
world that exists elsewhere. You did
quite well in there. In fact, near the
end of it you were about to win the
game when we intervened and
confiscated the suit.”
“That was no great
disappointment. People were dying in
those suits.”
“Shortly thereafter, you were on
the verge of discovering where the
Dragon Master’s main computer system
was hidden. Unfortunately it was
destroyed in an accidental explosion.”
“So you guys are not infallible.
You don’t know everything.”
“What?”
“As you say, that entire system
was destroyed. I’m guessing you still
have the sensesuits you took from us,
but there is no longer a Dragon Master
computer system to use them with. So
where is all this going?”
“Very perceptive, Scott. But you
are mistaken. From the beginning, we
suspected that the individuals
operating Dragon Master’s system
would not rely on a single computer.
We expected to find a redundant
backup somewhere. We found it in the
caves you led our SWAT team to, the
caves that so conveniently adjoined the
New York sewer system. It has taken
us quite awhile to understand the
equipment and learn how to operate it,
but we are there now.”
“You aren’t wanting me to put a
sensesuit back on and go into that
game of death? You can’t be.”
“The suits contain biological
properties. Some of our scientists have
joked that they are surprised the suits
have not already become self-aware.
When the suit is first worn by its user,
there is a bonding at the DNA level.
Once that mating is made, no one else
can ever wear the suit. The suit will kill
anyone who tries. Back when you were
involved in the Dragon Master’s
investigation, Ms. Cassell was also
forced to put on a suit. It originally
belonged to a man named Leeds, but
he had discovered how to switch the
suit to diagnostics mode. Because her
suit remained in diagnostics mode, she
survived the game and won. Her
victory was purely symbolic, however.
The Dragon Master computer thought
that the suit was being tested and not
really in competition. For that reason,
Ms. Cassell did not actually receive the
reward that the game had promised, a
reward that was supposedly beyond
imagination.”
Paul stopped and drank once
more. “I cannot emphasize to you how
close Ms. Cassell came to death in that
sadistic gamble forced on her by Leeds.
Had the suit she was wearing
accidentally switched out of diagnostics
mode for so much as a microsecond, it
would have self-destructed. Leeds was
not so lucky. He was killed by the
individuals using the sensesuit
computer system.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“The entire affair was a very dark
episode, Scott. Had you not located the
lair when you did and led our SWAT
team to it, many worse things would
have happened.”
“To be honest, I hate even
thinking about it.”
“And that brings me finally to why
we’re here. We have one fully
functional sensesuit whose DNA-
matched user is still alive.”
“No. You have one fully functional
sensesuit without a user.”
“And your next question should
be, why would we want to go back into
the Dragon Masters’ game? The answer
is, because it’s not a game at all. It is
the most sophisticated simulator we’ve
ever seen. It is a repository of worlds
from all over the known universe, all
represented in exact detail. The
opportunity to learn is beyond
imagination, but even that is not why
we need to go back in.”
Paul leaned back in his seat and
rubbed his temple as though the telling
of it was tiring him, as well. “As you
know, the Dragon Masters computer
was being operated by a race not from
Earth, the Salantians. They used
another off-world technology called a
vortport to turn a wall of solid rock into
a doorway into our world. They were
setting up to invade Earth, and using
the sensesuit computer to help them do
that. They can do it again. In fact, we
believe that the lair you found was the
first outpost intended to pave the way
for a much larger invasion. Using the
captured Dragon Master computer, we
believe we can learn enough about
them to defend against their return.
For Earth, it is not an option. It is an
absolute necessity.”
“And this celestial group of yours,
so incredibly powerful, needs help
against these kinds of outside
invaders?”
“This is a turning point in human
evolution, Scott. When nuclear
weapons were first discovered on
Earth, there was an understood
message that came along with them.
The message was; the human race has
become too advanced to have any more
world wars. The consequence of such a
conflict would be mutual annihilation.
Given that, mankind somehow found a
way to work together just barely
enough to avoid all out global war –at
least so far. This is another such fork in
the road of evolution. This time the
message is, either work together as a
people to turn back invaders from
another world, or be destroyed. My
organization can help level the playing
field, but can only go so far. It is time
for the people of Earth to join together
to defeat this threat.”
“Why would people at your level
need information about an alien
species?”
“The universe is too large to really
understand, Scott. There are indeed
channels though which some of our
celestial members can obtain
knowledge of distant off-world species.
That knowledge is on a level you would
consider to be spiritual. Spiritual
knowledge does not carry down to the
physical world too easily. It often
distorts in the translation. Have you
ever tried to translate a dream?
Understanding what kind of impact an
alien species can have on Earth
requires more than an ethereal point of
view. Only here on the physical plane
do we actually see real effects
manifest. The Dragon Master computer
can show us in human terms how the
Salantians operate. It is difficult to
anticipate an intrusion without that
kind of knowledge. Am I making this
clear enough?”
“Not really. But I think what you
are trying to say is that knowing
something is going to happen does not
fully prepare you for when it does.”
“Keep in mind, the Salantian
invaders are probably only doing what
comes natural to them. They do not see
it as evil or offensive. When a colony of
ants overruns some other nest, that
does not make them evil or wrongful.
But, I think I’ve probably inundated
you enough for now. We possess all the
Dragon Master resources, and after
recounting to you everything that
happened during that sordid affair,
obviously I must be who I claim to be.
You now have a reasonable
understanding of who I represent and
why we need your help. We will need
to go over all of this with Ms. Cassell,
but it seemed appropriate to approach
you first so that you could direct us in
how that should be done. I know she
and her father are presently taking a
train to Knoxville, both still too
traumatized by the aircraft accident to
fly. We arranged for their attendance
at the RIA Conference just to facilitate
this meeting. Their conference is
located near one of our facilities. Quite
a remarkable woman, Ms Cassell. I
must say, our group is quite in awe of
her. We had been following you quite
closely back when your aircraft went
down in the mountains. We secretly
searched apart from the conventional
rescue teams and even with our
advanced resources were unable to
isolate the wreckage. For a time we
feared we had lost our chance to solicit
your help. When Ms. Cassell came
down off that mountain dragging you
along, our task force headquarters
people were beside themselves. Quite a
remarkable woman.”
“Are you following her now?”
“Two of our operatives are on the
train keeping a low profile. No contact
is to be made. We waited as long as we
dared for you to recover, Scott. We
were the Niela Group who paid for all
your medical expenses and made sure
Ms. Cassell was not impeded in any
way in her attempts to effect your
recovery. But, we do not force anyone
to help us or join us. That must be of
your own choosing. If you refuse, we
will use every other means at our
disposal to help Earth against this
threat, and we will bother you no
longer. I shall take my leave of you
now. This particular mission has an
urgency that seems to task me a bit.
Here is my card. The address there is
where we’ll need to meet. It’s a four or
five-hour drive from the conference.
When you are on your way, just say
my name and the word, enroute, out
loud. You have an implant that will
alert us.”
“I have a what?”
“An implant. A micro-tracking
device under the skin.”
“You’ve implanted a device in my
body without telling me?”
“You were still in the hospital,
comatose. It is a tiny thing that runs
off your body’s own electricity. Once
removed it dissolves very quickly. We
can also send a command and tell it to
dissolve, if you wish.”
“You are eavesdropping on
everything I say and do, against my
will?”
“No. Our system monitors the
implant for keywords only. Were you to
say the word help standing alone, it
would trigger an alert. We would take
action to be sure you were not in any
danger. Only certain keywords are flags
to our system. Otherwise, there is no
monitoring at all. It is the same with
your physical location. We can check
where you are, but only do so as a
precaution. As I’ve mentioned, we will
dissolve this implant any time you
wish, but I strongly recommend you
hold off on that decision until we’ve
talked again. The implant is a benefit,
not an abuse.”
“I am afraid to ask, have you done
this to Cassiopia and the Professor, as
well?”
“Yes. Your wife…oh! Please forgive
me. A slip of the tongue. Ms. Cassell is
an extremely unusual woman, as I’ve
said. Professor Cassell is a walking
textbook that some unethical groups
would like to have control of. The
implants will guard them both. Would
you really want those removed, Scott?”
“I’m going to need some time to
get my head around all this crap. The
implant thing is pissing me off.”
John Paul rose from the couch,
leaned over, and took a final sip of his
cold tea. He nodded to the robot and
took his derby hat from the couch.
Holding it near his chest, he headed for
the door. Markman rose and moved
with him, opening the door with a
glance of consternation. Without
speaking, John Paul returned a last,
knowing nod and disappeared out.
Through the curtains, Markman spotted
the two men in black waiting by the
sedan with a rear door open. He leaned
his head against the glass, exhaled,
and wondered what had just happened.
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