

### Dark Light Present Today

### Book Two: Forever Tomorrow

### Volume One: The Book of Tomorrows

### Alexander Ulysses Thor

Copyright 2014 Alexander Ulysses Thor

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Copyrighted property of the author,

May not be reproduced, copied, and

Distributed for commercial

Or non-commercial purposes.

If you enjoyed this book,

Please encourage friends to read

The rest of this epic trilogy, available soon.

Thank you for your support.

The characters, incidents, and places either are

a product of The Author's imagination

or used fictitiously, any resemblance

to actual persons, living or dead,

business establishments, events,

or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

# CHAPTER ONE

### THINKER TAILORED FRIENDLY SPY

1

"They used to say there are over eight million ways to die in the naked city. Many were brutal, violent, bloody deaths that often deeply scarred the victims loved ones and society itself, spreading a moral decay so pervasively devastating, it eventually left only chaos and disorder behind. Murderously heinous acts go back as far as the beginning of mankind and have remained a major part of our culture ever since. No matter how advanced the civilization or intellectually superior we become, we always seem to revert back to our savage natures when the means is justified by the end."

"Excuse me. Did you say something, SI Chandra?"

After imparting his bleak appraisal of our darker natures, Special Investigator Raymond Chandra gave his new partner a quick glance before turning his attention back to the blood-spattered crime scene in front of him.

"Oh, just thinking out loud about how the past always seems to catch up with us. Something people start doing once they get to be my age."

Not real popular with many of his colleagues on account of his hard-edged, dogged personality, this would be his first case working with the young female detective standing at his side. Possessing the unwavering determination of a sly fox on the hunt after catching scent of a nearby chicken coup, the forty-nine year old investigator reserved judgment on his tall, slender, freckle-faced partner, unable to get a clear fix on the shorthaired-brunette. Normally able to read people just like the hardnosed, wily detectives from those old mystery novels he dearly coveted—even molding himself in the image of the old Gumshoe, wearing a long, ruffled, tan overcoat to go along with his propensity to rely on gut instincts to solve crimes—Chandra found the twenty-four year old to be a well-trained officer with a keen eye for detail.

Detective Samantha Archer looked like most modern day law enforcement officers and that might have been what bothered him about her. She wore the standard dark suit and tie, along with the same sensible shoes female detectives have worn since being able to work in a position other than as a dispatcher or a file clerk. Detective Archer also depended on those high-tech gadgets most investigators used to do their jobs for them. Trace element locators, fingerprint scanners, CPU-Notepads, and PDA devices were common tools regularly used by officers in the field, as well as everyday citizens—minus the scanners and locators. SI Chandra took notes the old fashion way, using a pen and pad. He would rather rely on his own acute five senses to find clues, including an uncanny sixth sense enabling him to read any situation and most people. He didn't care much for cell phones, which he could easily do without, while everyone else would be lost without their PDA to tell them where to go and how to get there.

A short, thin man, he had a receding hairline of light brown hair, a pencil thin mustache, and a visual condition laser surgery couldn't fix, forcing him to be one of the few people left who wore glasses. He was not bitter about never being matched to anyone by the SBP, figuring he would still be single even back in the 21st century, probably with very few sexual experiences, if any—a real perennial bachelor. A man dedicated to his work, he used his skills as a highly trained investigator to get to the bottom of any mystery, even applying his own deductive reasoning to validate the pragmatically rationalized belief he was born to serve a higher purpose, something more important than procreation.

Waiting for that day over the long, monotonous, uneventful years started to wear thin on SI Chandra's patience. Eight months away from his mandatory retirement age for working cases in the field, he had the option to leave with full benefits, or if he wanted, he could choose to become a desk jockey, which in his mind amounted to no choice at all. The logic behind taking someone out of the field at age fifty baffled him, especially when their years of experience might prove to be the most valuable tool in solving an important case by finding a missing clue or a piece of overlooked evidence. He could not understand why they wouldn't let him continue doing what he had been expertly doing for the past thirty years. They weren't even willing to take into consideration he had not lost a step in all that time, maybe gotten a little tired from the mundane boredom, but remained sharp as ever. Besides, it wasn't as if there was a violent crime being committed every twenty-three seconds anymore.

The crime rate in New America was almost non-existent, so small they did not bother calculating it. Mostly nonviolent, minor offences of civil disobedience, there were a small number of cases derived from emotionally unstable individuals with mental disorders going off their meds. The offender was held accountable for their actions and then be provided with the proper medical treatment for their illness, instead of serving harsh prison sentences and being subjected to the musings of violent inmates while at the mercy of coldhearted guards. Although rare, an occasional rage killing did spontaneously occur. Usually the kind of thing stemming from two people getting in an argument, then a fight that left somebody dead. But nothing to make a dedicated officer so despondent he would end up eating a bullet while cleaning his gun. Or a legal system more concerned with the rights of the perpetrator over getting justice for the victims. Law officers no longer found themselves driven to the social abuses associated with the drugs and alcohol they once used to drown out the dark horrors of their profession. Sometimes silently suffering from a post-traumatic stress disorder similar to war veterans, which had almost as much of a damaging effect on their families as it did on them.

There were no more premeditated murders, ransom kidnappings, home invasions, organized crime families, sexual deviants, assault and battery muggings, or grand theft larcenies. No more drug or alcohol related deaths and accidents, white collar scams artists on the grift, political corruption, bribery charges, or any psychotic sociopaths who showed no remorse for their bloody deeds as they savored their memories writing bestselling jailhouse memoirs. There also had not been any horrific crime scenes depicting graphically bloody deaths that would forever scar the mind with images that once seen could never been unseen—until now.

In the thirty years he spent on the job, SI Chandra had never seen anything quite like the crime scene he got the call to investigate on that early Sunday morning.

In viewing the gruesome sight of Larry Barbra's eviscerated corpse, all sprawled out in a bloody mass of ripped opened flesh torn apart by the bomb blast, the disturbing image would forever burn in the back of Chandra's mind. Standing two hundred feet from the entrance/exit gate of Caesar's Palace's parking lot, the diminutive Special Investigator's sixth sense started working on overdrive.

When SI Chandra first arrived on scene, the ghastly sight already had had an effect on the medical examiner, causing him to run off choking back his breakfast. Surprisingly enough, it did not appear to bother his new female partner, knowing how most of his old male partners would have reacted in a similar manner to the medical examiner. He thought the kid might turn out to be a real spitfire. She already made a better first impression on him than most of his previous partners, but still, much like the crime scene, something about her did not feel right either.

The second he hung up the phone after getting the call telling him where to go and what he would find when he got there, he thought this might be it. The big one he had been waiting for. After waiting such a long time for his moment to arrive, Chandra started to wonder if it ever would, thereby invalidating his whole resolute philosophy about being meant for something bigger. He was a morally righteous man, keenly moved to give his life meaning in the fight for justice—just like the valiant characters in those old stories where the bad guys never wins and good always triumphed over evil.

SI Chandra had never been involved in a case worth the true test of his talents. So on the day he caught scent of something big, he would follow the clues to wherever they led. He just did not want some green-behind-the-ears rookie coming along and contaminating evidence from being inexperienced in fieldwork.

"Why would anyone want to do something like this to a harmless old man? What could the reason be?" Det. Archer asked her new partner, expressing sympathy for the victim, while trying to get a better fix on the man she hardly knew.

"Well, I do not know, Detective Archer. You see, I never met the man, but with that said, I seriously doubt he has any connection to this other than an unlucky case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Chandra thought it was a good idea to check out any new partner you were working with to see if you could depend on them to have your back as you had theirs. One of the first things he looked at was personal information like hobbies, believing you could tell more about a person by what gave them pleasure than from studying educational records, test scores, supervisors' evaluation reports, and training skills.

"The first thing you need to remember when working a crime scene is to keep asking questions until you get the right answers." SI Chandra offered an unsolicited bit of tradecraft to his young colleague, leading to her own query.

"But how do you know if you are asking the right questions?"

"That is the easy part. They are always the same questions—who, what, where, when, how, and why. It is the standard six W rule of journalism used to reveal how any story begins and ends. Because you see, that is what we are here to do, tell his story, since he no longer can. If you keep asking those six questions, you will find the indisputable proof needed to solve any mystery. You start with the three most obvious; who, where, and when, and then work your way through what, how, and why."

Stopping his detective lesson a moment and looking around at their surroundings in a casually observant manner, SI Chandra held up his arms and pointed out the evidently observable.

"For example, we know who our victim is, where he was killed, and the approximate time of death telling us when it happened. But in order to get to the bottom of any mystery, you need to answer the other three crucial questions. What happened? How did it happen? And most importantly, why did it happen? The truth always lies within the whys."

"I can take a pretty good guess at the most likely reason why." Det. Archer offered her opinion. "The real motivating force behind the AFW or the FWF, or whatever they want to call themselves these days, comes from their lustful desires for sexually deviant behavior. They would rather give in to their primal natures, wasting their lives embracing an archaic need for animalistic self-gratification, instead of taking advantage of the limitless opportunities available to expand their horizons seeking out knowledge of the world to help with the continued evolutionary growth of our species."

From SI Chandra's non-reaction to her theory, Det. Archer could tell he did not put much stock in her opinion. She then opened the door to make room for his response to a puzzling query of her own.

"I would like to know how they did it. What I mean is. Where did they get the materials to build a bomb? It is not like they could get it allocated to them."

"It is nothing any third rate chemistry student couldn't make out of everyday house and gardening products," SI Chandra explained the ease of making bombs without any explosive materials designed for that specific purpose, then admitted. "You are absolutely right about one thing, Det. Archer. It would not make any sense to kill a harmless old man. If the bomb was meant for him, that is. But what if the bomber had someone else in mind? Someone of prominence I believe is who the AFW claimed would be their next target."

"Oh my, you don't mean?"

"Guardian Administrator Cain's motorcade passed right by here last night on the way out from the big wedding celebration for our local hero."

SI Chandra and Det. Archer walked over to Larry Barbra's electric haul cart, also caught up in the blast. Chandra crouched down in front of the mangled cart so he could visually examine the wreckage.

"The other three important things you need to know are the beginning, middle, and end to any story. We usually come in at the end of someone's story, and then we work our way back to the beginning, to the place where it all started. And while this may be the end of his story—whether intended or not, which makes it harder to find out why when things do not go according to plan—it now becomes the beginning of our story."

"I hope we can finish his story before somebody starts a new one," Det. Archer added some potential conflict for upcoming chapters.

The medical examiner returned with two assistants to remove the remains. The M.E. stayed off to the side of the coroner's van with a handkerchief held up to his nose, his shirt and tie stained from a failed attempt to prevent regurgitating his breakfast.

As the coroner's assistants prepared to remove the deceased, their morbidly awestruck reactions originated more from a fascinated professional curiosity, rather than disgust. Wheeling a gurney over to the corpse, Jay, who was first on scene with the M.E., spoke softly to David, the second assistant they went to go get because the medical examiner refused to touch the body and was presently rethinking his career options.

"This is going to blow your mind when you see it. It is terrible, I know. But the only other place you will see something like this is in those rare, old newsreels of gangland killings and battlefield footage they showed us in med school. Even the once in a blue moon industrial accident we get called to could never compare to the damage done here."

"The loss of life is a sad and horrible thing. Just a shame it is the only way to study the effects something like this has on the human body." David concurred with his co-worker, remaining respectful of the dead. But upon seeing what remained of Larry Barbra, he blurted out in pronounced, stunned amazement the first thing that came to his mind. "Hideously wicked, man, it totally gutted him. Poor, guy."

SI Chandra and Det. Archer made their way back over to the body as the two assistants were lowering the gurney and spreading out a body bag.

"Since Charlie doesn't seem to have the stomach for it, how about one of you guys giving me your preliminary findings." SI Chandra said before realizing the unintended pun his comment had in relation to the medical examiner's weak constitution and the victim's physical condition.

Feeling like he just got a promotion, Jay gladly took the lead in rendering his medical report. "As you can see, the cause of death was from a direct blast to the abdominal cavity as most of the center mass has been completely blown away, leaving only some exposed rib bones in the upper torso along with some remnants of the lungs and intestines in the lower torso. The only thing keeping the upper connected to the lower is the spinal cord, also severely damaged in the blast. Death was instantaneous."

"Very good, thanks guys. You can remove the body now." SI Chandra informed them before heading back over to the point of origin with Det. Archer.

"Check out the burn pattern on the asphalt. The scorch marks are heading into the parking lot, instead of out. The explosion appears to have gone off in the wrong direction, if you wanted to take out a vehicle passing by at a certain time that is."

"A controlled explosion might have gone off accidently from the can turning when Mr. Barbra lifted the garbage bag out. That could explain why it went in instead of out." Det. Archer put forward her own theory for the misdirected blast.

"A reasonable assumption, but what I would like to know is why it didn't go off when supposed to? If meant to go off in the first place. There is not much left here for the bomb squad boys to sift through, who knows, maybe we will get lucky."

After noticing an electric cart driving over to them, the irked inspector demanded in a gruff voice. "Hey, who is driving on my crime scene?"

"Oh I forgot to mention, they sent an efficiency expert to poke around."

"What on earth for?"

Moving across the parking lot, taking a wide berth around the blast area, Ricardo circled round in the electric cart, coming to a stop next to them.

Sizing up the man getting out of the cart, Chandra instantly found nothing he liked about the golden tan, muscle-bound, pretty boy with beady eyes and a goatee. Walking over to them with a confident, commanding stride, holding something in his hand wrapped in a handkerchief, Ricardo stepped up and presented what he knew to be a piece of valuable evidence.

"Det. Archer, I found something you need to see," Ricardo said.

"Ricardo Danielle, this is Special Investigator Chandra, and he is in charge of the scene." Det. Archer made the introductions, establishing the chain of command.

"SI Chandra, sir, it is my pleasure. I heard you are a very efficient man who always gets the job done."

"Efficiency is your game. I prefer to think of myself as being thorough."

"Well, I am happy to contribute to your investigation in any way I can. Here, I believe you will find this to be an important piece of evidence." Ricardo said.

Gently unwrapping the handkerchief in his hand, Ricardo revealed what looked like part of a homemade trigger mechanism, partial burned around the edges.

Det. Archer reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a portable fingerprint scanner. Turning it on, she passed it over the trigger.

"I hope you can get a print off of that. The bomb-maker might have assumed there wouldn't be anything left." Ricardo said.

After a few seconds, the scanner determined there was a readable print, and it identified someone that caused a double-take moment in Ricardo, making him take a step back.

"Something wrong, Mr. Danielle?" SI Chandra asked, noting his startled reaction.

"I know him."

"Interesting," SI Chandra said, seeming to be less fascinated by the importance of the found evidence and more intrigued with his new partner's connection to its discoverer. Formulating another theory he did not much care for, he knew you should never ignore your gut instincts. And right now his gut was telling him Det. Archer's early arrival on the scene before him was not meant to make a good impression, rather more to rendezvous with this man for some reason he could not quite fathom as of yet. He began to doubt the veracity of the conveniently found evidence almost immediately.

"Where did you find it?" SI Chandra asked Ricardo.

"If you like, I can show you."

"No that is okay. Why don't you and Det. Archer take the evidence back to the lab and log it in with your detailed statement."

"I do not know how to write any other kind," Ricardo replied with a confident bravado, feeling he would not be able to break through the inspector's safely guarded wall of solitude. "I left an evidence marker on the ground where I found and photographed it, about fifty yards North West of here."

Det. Archer reached back into her bag, pulled out an evidence bag, and held it open for Ricardo. "Here, put it in this."

After dropping the trigger into the bag, Ricardo and Det. Archer started over to the electric cart they would use to drive back to his car parked in front of Caesar's Palace.

"Det. Archer, a moment before you go, if you please," SI Chandra said holding up his hand with his fingers curling back in a directional calling motion.

Det. Archer gave Ricardo a forwarding nod, indicating for him to go on, and she would be along in a minute.

"Detective, I know we have not worked together before, so let me give you a good piece of advice to remember whenever you are working a case. Do not try to guess the reason why a crime has been committed, or what may have motivated it. Because then it becomes harder for you to separate opinion from fact. Once you let in an unconfirmed theory, it can influence the rest of your reasoning, and you might start shaping the investigation to fit your unsubstantiated notion. It is all right to have an opinion, but unless you have some empirical proof to back it up, best keep it to yourself."

"Yes, sir, thank you for the advice. I will be sure to keep it in mind."

SI Chandra watched her walk over to the electric cart, noting the slight brush of Ricardo's hand on her shoulder as she sat down. Thinking about how modern day crime had drastically changed over the years, he knew deep in the hearts and minds of men (and women) the willingness to practice the art of deception still lived on in our natures and probably always would. He sensed somebody was trying to pull the wool over his eyes. Something he was not going to let happen, if he had anything to say about it.

2

Samantha Archer and Ricardo Danielle were childhood friends since infancy. Living next door to each other, born a few days apart, they grew up playing rough games together. Her competitive nature to come out on top always made him try harder to beat her at whatever physically vigorous athletic activity or sport they competed—handball, tennis, martial arts, even the sweet science of boxing. After grappling with the growth pains still prevalent in adolescence, Ricardo and Samantha began to realize how much they cared for each other, how much they loved each other, although more so for their highly skilled, mutually competitive natures, than a wanton physical passion.

Since neither one of them had been matched to anyone, Ricardo believed his calculated actions would permit an exception to the rules, with assistance from his recently acquired, powerful benefactor, who could arrange it so the SBP would match Samantha to him. Other factors contributed to Ricardo's ironically resolute desire to fight for what those he fought against also wanted so badly. Lost in his tunnel vision of love, the concept of equality blinded him with a hatred for those he believed to be the root cause preventing his happiness—those sexual degenerates who went against their evolutionary nature by copulating with the same sex. He didn't know what else to call them. They were an aberrant abnormality. Whether they were born with a defect in their genetic code or a mental psychosis brought on by some physical trauma, it did not make sense to him how anyone could be born that way and considered normal. It had to be a design flaw, a blunder in their creative blueprint or some kind of mental disability.

After all the years spent studying the phenomenon, scientists still could not find the elusive gay gene. Although, Ricardo wished they had. So that way, they could eradicate it in the womb before allowing it to fester and spread its cancerous moral decay on our new society, destroying it as it did the old one.

Ricardo could not accept the terms gay or lesbian and preferred the hateful slang words from the 1950's and 60's, when they had to live in fear of someone bashing in their faggot, queer faces. Born out of the free love era, the homosexual revolution did not fully make its way out of the closet and into the mainstream culture until the end of the 20th century, when the film, music, and television industries all catered to their choice of perverted lifestyle. Even if they claimed, it wasn't a choice. The only saving grace Ricardo could find existing during that time came from conservative religious groups of every faith, who normally could not agree on anything, but all held the same belief that homosexuality was a grievous sin against god and would lead to their mortal souls being damned to suffer an eternity in hell. Of course, he thought they were just as crazy for their insane beliefs, too.

Before the fall, several states and many other countries recognized gay and lesbian marriages as valid unions, even allowing the perverts to adopt and raise children, indoctrinating them into their sick world. Ricardo thought if he lived back then the insanity of the time would have drove him stark raving mad. Of course, they did not benefit from having the best educational system ever conceived, where ninety-eight percent of the student body graduated with honors. Maybe if they had modern-day sex education classes, like AWAKEN—Abstinence Warranty Academy of Knowledge and Enlightenment Now, they might not have been so confused about their sexuality and seen the error of their ways.

"You know, Sammy, I am not going to be very popular with my roommates after turning in this print to the lab. But it is what it will be." Ricardo told Samantha using his pet name for her they shared when alone. "The evidence might not be enough to convince Jacob of his friend's guilt. We are going to have to be careful around him. Chances are he is going to do everything he can to save his friend."

"Do you think he will cause much trouble?"

Ricardo placed his hand on top of her hand tightly gripping his knee. He loved the sensation of life he felt coursing through her body whenever they touched. "Don't worry, I can handle him. He may have influential friends, but he is not indestructible, and the burden of celebrity makes him vulnerable to public opinion. Plus, he has no idea what kind of powerful friends I have made."

"Neither do I."

"You have to trust me. It is better this way. I will do anything to protect and keep you from harm."

Holding hands was as far as they dared permit themselves to go, even though their heart's desire for each other grew stronger every day. Stubbornly dedicated to following the rules, they remained hopeful their loyal actions would allow them to circumvent the SBP system. Fearful of breaking the law, they both knew without order the world would fall back into chaos. Ricardo and Samantha would do anything to prevent that from happening, even if it meant sacrificing what they held most dear.

3

"I need to see you."

A paused moment, listening.

"Yes, right now."

Another paused moment, listening.

"Yes, very imperative."

Last paused moment.

"I will be right over."

Hanging up the phone, Jacob looked over to Hanna as he concealed the mutual concern visible in her worried eyes behind his stoic countenance. His passionate love for her grew stronger every day, now indebted even further for her timely warning concerning his friend's troubled future. Hanna was unsure of what to do after coming across the sensitive information. She left work early from her job at the Department of Allocations, utilizing the old-standby excuse of a migraine brought on by menstrual pains. Believing she could not ignore what she just learned, she decided Jacob would know best how to handle the delicate situation.

Sympathetic to Jacob's friend's impending troubles, Hanna had to remain careful in her own right. Stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, Hanna found herself living in a similarly precarious situation as Eve after the FWF prearranged her match to Michael, which only made sense since Hanna was the original recruit the rebel group cherry-picked for Michael. She truly was a spy left out in the cold. Unable to contact her FWF handlers (who didn't know if she could be trusted, or if she might have been turned and was now working against them), Hanna did not have the option of breaking down and confessing to Jacob. It would be too risky. She didn't have Eve's hold card to play, since Jacob wasn't the Prophet Warrior's heir, leaving her with no other choice except to suffer in silence for now. Somebody started stirring up the waters, and she could feel a big whirlpool coming to suck down anyone too close to the edge of it.

"He will see you then?" Hanna asked already knowing the answer.

"Yes, and thank you for this," Jacob said as he reached out taking hold of her hand. "It means a great deal to me the risk you took for my friend."

"I know you and your old roommates are very close. They are a part of your family, and I have seen what great lengths you will go to help a friend in need. Please promise me, you will tread carefully. I know you and the GAC are very close, but when the barbarians are at the gates and pounding at your door, those in the power will be shielded from blame, while the innocent often get sacrificed."

"It is just the thing I am going there to prevent from happening. And there is no one I trust more than Alex." Then after a moment's pause. "Except for you, that is."

Hanna closed her eyes in a delayed blink, opening them again with a hidden sadness she didn't want Jacob seeing, unable to express the guilt she carried with her or the truth she had to bury in her heart.

"Look, don't worry about a thing. Everything is going to work out fine. I am sure this is some kind of crazy mistake. It has to be a clerical error or a computer malfunction. I just want to save my friend any unnecessary embarrassment."

Except Jacob knew they did not make mistakes like that anymore. The system was almost perfect. Yet someone could breech any system from the inside, which is what concerned him. It was the only way. Any other possibility was completely absurd. His friend would never be capable of coming up with the concept of being a terrorist bomber, no less follow through with the act. There had to be another explanation, and he was going to find it.

"You are probably right. I'm just being silly. So, tell you what I'm going to do. I am going to make your favorite dinner and have it ready for you when you get back."

"Sounds great, I should not be too long." Jacob said giving her a gentle kiss.

A few minutes after Jacob left, Hanna picked up the phone and hit the speed-dial memory button, also muting the video mode. She spoke in a cautious tone the instant somebody answered, barely giving the person time to say hello.

"Please listen very carefully. I have something very important to tell you."

4

The hidden truth the lovely young woman he recently fell deeply in love with kept locked away was not the only thing Jacob did not know about her. Actually, for someone with excellent journalistic instincts, he would be surprised how all the people closest to him were not just keeping secrets about themselves, but about him, too.

Jacob still believed he owed the GAC a favor for Michael's rescue operation, when in fact he repaid it with his acceptance of Hanna as his SBP mate. Rebel fringe groups were not the only ones capable of working the system, and the GAC had his own covert plan to put things back on track. He could tell something had gone awry in the way the government provided for the needs of its people.

The relationship between any democratic system of government and its citizens was like a marriage, a commitment by two separate entities to serve the needs of the other, patriotically working together for the good of all. Yet, there were dark forces trying to break up the idyllic, happy marriage, working under a veil of secrecy, formulating conspiratorial plots, and employing methods of deception dating back to the old world days of corruption. Their motivations had little to do with the will of the people to live free, or a love for their system of government, and had more to do with the unquenchable desire to possess and retain control of absolute and everlasting power.

The position of Guardian Administrator was originally created to ensure that someone with a strong moral character of unimpeachable integrity be around to lead the nation until the people caught up with the times. Devised as a temporary safeguard and never meant to last forever, the present GAC felt the time had come to move on and let the good citizens of New America decide if things should change or stay the same. He felt confidently secure about his decision to ride off and fade away into the sunset as long as there were people out there like Jacob and his friend, Michael. The long years of change wore him down, and he now welcomed a long, peaceful rest.

Arriving at the Cherry Creek mansion entrance gate, Jacob took note of the armed guards that were not normally present. They were there to make sure no unwanted visitors came a calling. Stopping at the gate, Jacob opened his passenger side window.

Even though everyone in the country pretty much knew Jacob on sight, the guard still asked him for his ID.

"I am going to need to see your identification card, sir."

GP Sally lowered the driver's side window to speak with the guard stationed on his side of the Eco-SUV. Except as soon as the guard recognized who was behind the wheel, he signaled him through right away.

"Open the gate and let them in," the guard said coming to attention in a way that made the guard on Jacob's side also snap into place, forgetting all about the requested documents. "Guardian Protector Sally, my apologies, sir. We did not know it was you."

"Never apologize for doing your job, son. It is a sign of weakness." GP Sally schooled the guard with words of wisdom coined by an old western icon.

Genuinely impressed by the respect they showed him, Jacob kept thinking as they drove up to the house, _'there just might be more to Harvey than meets the eye'_.

The palatial estate mansion located in one of Denver's finest neighborhoods served as the official residence for all Guardian Administrators. Allocated by a universal decree, the people still wanted their leaders to live in a big White House appropriate for someone of their position.

As GP Sally circled round the cul-de-sac driveway, Jacob could see his good friend and mentor waiting for him outside on the front porch, instantly telling him something had gone awry. The personal greeting was not how the GAC did things. He would normally wait in his big office-den whenever someone came by to see him on official business. A meeting place reserved for discussing highly sensitive matters and used only during times of upmost importance—hardly a frequent occurrence.

"The situation has become more complicated since we last spoke," the GAC said, confirming Jacob's suspicions as he stepped out of the vehicle.

"Harvey, would you please come join us inside? Your presence may prove helpful, and you need to be briefed on the situation as well," the GAC said to GP Sally, who appeared content to wait in the Eco-SUV.

"Anything I can do, sir, just name it," the big man said as he stepped out of the Eco-SUV.

"Jacob, I know you already do, but I am going to need you to trust me awhile," the GAC said in a low voice before GP Sally made it over to them.

"Sure thing, you can always count on my loyalty, Alex."

"Good man," the GAC said as GP Sally came over and joined them. "I am going to do everything I can for your friend, but you better come inside to get a clearer picture of where things stand."

After giving GP Sally a silent nod to go on in ahead, the GAC and Jacob lingered back a moment.

"We may have to expedite our special project."

"But we were not planning to unveil it until next summer, spring at the earliest," Jacob said in protest to the rushed plan.

"We are going to have to find a way to move things along more quickly. Others are out there working against us. Others who have nothing to do with rebel groups, which makes time a thing of essence."

Confused by the cryptic remarks, Jacob decided to wait and see what lay ahead before probing further. They kept their special project strictly between the two of them, and even Jacob did not know everything the GAC had up his sleeve. Assured when the time came, he would fully understand the reasoning behind his mentor's cagey methods. Conceived from a conversation he had after Michael's rescue operation, Jacob told the GAC he never understood the true power of love until Eve refused to leave Michael's bedside at the hospital. The thing he remembered most was the wide smile spreading cross his mentor's face as he told him. "I believe your time has finally come, my boy."

Pushing open the huge double-doors to his office-den, the GAC stepped inside with Jacob, followed by GP Sally. Not a curious man, Harvey Sally didn't need to know the reason why of things, only to have faith in the person giving the orders, which he did. A loyal soldier, he would do his duty until the bitter end, if necessary.

The spacious office-den had the old-fashioned retro-look of a big game hunter's trophy room, complete with a large marble fireplace, hardwood floors, and oak paneled walls decorated with numerous weapons of destruction in lieu of animal heads. The extensive, wide-ranging variety of instruments of death expanded out from the earliest forms of bows and arrows, spears and knives, to medieval period swords and shields, knight's armor and maces, then progressed onto the first firearms, leading right up to modern, 21st century rifles, shotguns, handguns, and automatic weapons, along with an assortment of other death dealing objects. The GAC sat down behind a huge oak desk.

"I do not care what kind of evidence they have against him. I know the man. He is not capable of any kind of violent act. He's a pacifist." Jacob pleaded his friend's innocence while pacing back and forth in front of the desk.

"You will have to pardon me for speaking derogatory against the confidence you have in your friend, who it turns out you do not know as well as you think you do."

Jacob turned at the sound of the familiar voice coming from the doorway. Shooting a vexing gaze at Ricardo, he realized he should have known better. He had been too distracted. Otherwise, he would have seen right through Ricardo's façade.

"You do not know what you are talking about." Jacob retorted.

"Not only can I prove Warren Stacy made the bomb meant to kill the Guardian Administrator, I can also provide credible evidence of an ongoing homosexual relationship between him and Owen Sandy, who I also intend to charge as a co-conspirator and fellow member of the AFW with Warren."

"What do you mean, you are going to charge?" Jacob asked.

"I have been appointed special prosecutor in charge of rooting out the members of these rebel groups trying to subvert our rule of law."

"Appointed by whom?" the GAC asked as he stood up behind his desk and waited for an answer, which came swiftly.

"By me," Atera answered from the doorway as she stepped up behind Ricardo, "and by a unanimous vote of the Committee of Experts. You may not be taking these threats against your life seriously, but I certainly am."

Sitting back down, the GAC kept a patient refrain and bluntly stated. "I am very capable of looking out for my own safety, much more than anyone might suspect."

A puzzled glint shone in Atera eyes, before she quickly covered it with a serious, concentrated gaze, demonstrating a hardened devotion to her cause, whatever it might be.

After nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence, Jacob's voice cut through the air.

"I don't buy Warren as a rebel bomb-maker. He has never complained openly or privately to me against the government or to anyone I know. He loves his work and is a good-natured person who'd never hurt a fly. It doesn't make sense. Especially when he left by the same route and time we did and would have been at just as much risk."

"Martyrs are always willing to die for their cause," Ricardo said.

"Yeah, and what is that?" Jacob replied.

"Their deviant sexual lifestyle not only perverts the flesh, but the mind as well."

"I think you are the one who is losing his mind if you expect me to believe that insane story."

"He had the means to make an improvised explosive device from working around the materials needed, plus he also has a vegetable garden at home giving him access to fertilizers. He had motive based on his homosexuality. And with the wedding, he had the perfect opportunity, almost too good to pass up. There you have it. Means, motive, and opportunity, what more do you want?"

"Nuts. You don't know why the bomb went off when it did, or why it didn't when it was supposed to." Jacob continued protesting Ricardo's unsubstantiated accusations. "Where is your proof?"

"I have enough hard evidence to get them both charged easier than the old prosecutor's claim about being able to indict a ham sandwich." Ricardo said walking over to Jacob and the GAC with a backpack-type bag in his hand.

Setting the bag down on the desk corner, he pulled out the evidence bag Det. Archer provided for the trigger mechanism.

"First, I want you to take a good look at this charred piece of a kitchen timer used to trigger the bomb and found on the scene with Warren Stacy's fingerprint on it."

"That doesn't mean a thing. Anyone could have stolen that off the set of his cooking show. If that is your hard evidence, I think you better go back to law school, because it is circumstantial at best." Jacob said.

Not deterred by Jacob's defensive proclamations, Ricardo pulled out another sealed evidence bag with a bed sheet in it.

"This is a sheet from Warren's bed I had the lab analyze. They found semen stains from Owen Sandy on it. Care to explain that one to me. Because apparently this has been going on right under your nose the whole time, and you are supposed to be this big, hotshot, investigative journalist. When I could tell something was going on from the day I moved in." Ricardo said, boasting a sense of pride in being smarter than the wonder boy the public adored so much. He never did get it either. Jacob was nobody special. He just talked a good game.

Atera was well aware of Jacob's popularity with the masses and had no interest in making him a target of this investigation.

"Let's take a moment to get back to the matter at hand and not waste time squabbling over who should have known what when. Jacob is a very popular public figure. He has other more important things to focus on than his roommates' home lives. His investigative reports serve the public's interests by promoting our superior society over old, archaic ways of living. He is a great thinker, tailor-made for the job, who should not be wasting his valuable time playing the inadvertent, friendly spy. Whereas you, Ricardo, you are cut from a different cloth. You're the sharp tip of the spear we will use to clear away this nuisance. Because now that these rebel groups are resorting to violence, it is time to wield that spear. We could tolerate them when only committing acts of civil disobedience, but now they have gone too far. We need to enact stricter constraints and harsher penalties on these treasonous offenders, and root out this cancer before spreading its infectious disease on everything it touches," Atera stated what she thought to be their top priorities, suggesting an immediate course of action they needed to take.

"The Guardian Administrator's wife is absolutely right. We should not let ourselves get bogged down in the deceptive ways of homosexuals to live their lives in secret. They have always been good at hiding in plain sight." Ricardo acquiesced to Atera's valid points. "Warrants are being issued as we speak, and I fully expect to have indictments on all charges, with court dates to follow shortly after."

"On whose authority? Yours?" Jacob demanded in an outraged voice.

"No. Mine."

Jacob looked over to the GAC with a completely stunned expression, which gave Atera and Ricardo a private joy to witness.

"I had no choice, my boy. The evidence is sufficient enough to warrant the charges. It must be either proven false or true beyond a reasonable doubt in order to properly settle the matter."

"How are they going to do that? They don't know anything about the law."

"Let me suggest what I believe to be an equitable solution. Since Ricardo is prosecuting the case, I think it would only be fair for you to represent your friends as their defense attorney. You both have law degrees neither of you has ever used, mostly because there is not enough crime to justify your time. So are you both up for it?"

"If a trial is the only way to clear Warren and Owen of these false and outrageous allegations, I am more than willing and definitely able." Jacob said somewhat ashamedly thrilled at the prospect of having the opportunity to live out his secret dream of being a big trial lawyer involved in an important case, something similar to the infamous 1925 Scopes Monkey Trial they studied in law school. He just wished he had different clients.

"I welcome the chance to prove to you firsthand the merits of my case," Ricardo said, proclaiming victory before ever going to court, which would have made prosecutors of old quite proud.

"Then may I suggest you both start preparing your cases for trial. Jacob, the first thing you need to do is arrange for the peaceful surrender of your clients to the proper authorities. This way the process can begin on a civil note." The GAC continued delegating the situation in an amicable manner.

"I will go convene a grand jury," Ricardo said as he started getting the feeling he was no longer a part of the conversation now that they settled things.

"By all means, continue on with your appointed duties," the GAC replied as he got up and walked over to Jacob, putting his arm around his shoulder. "Let me see you out, my boy, and maybe you will give me some insight into your defense strategy."

Jacob and the GAC headed down the hall with the ever-present GP Sally falling in behind and taking up the rear guard. Ricardo felt like a shunned child left behind after his father went off fishing with his favorite son.

"I want you to know, Warren and Owen will be treated in a respectful manner and taken into custody unharmed, with as little publicity as possible," the GAC told Jacob once they were out of hearing range of unwanted listeners.

"I appreciate everything, Alex. But I was hoping we could stop this madness before it got started. It has to be either a gigantic mistake or a deliberately fraudulent act to frame them. But why them?"

"That is the real mystery you have to investigate," the GAC explained as they reached the door. "I am dubious of this conveniently found evidence, too. Just remember, our special project will make everything else mute. Your main objective must be finding out who planted the evidence and why. That will lead you to the true culprit."

Jacob left with the thought going through his head, _'_ I hate to do it, but I have to give Michael a call. I am going to need his help on this one'.

5

Moving down the Superglide highway in the dark, silent early hours of tonight's tomorrow morning, the passengers inside the silver Eco-SUV were as dead quiet as the night. The traditionally customary trip should have been a restfully relaxing time, free from dark thoughts creeping into their lives, since revealing all their innermost secrets. Nevertheless, Michael and Eve found it hard to bask in the lap of luxury, up in their mountaintop honeymoon cabin, when others they considered family were going through so much unexpected hardship.

Without the worry of conceiving anything other than a goodtime, Michael and Eve planned on staying out of touch with the world while they took their time exploring each other's bodies. Putting aside any personal hereditary revelations, the effect it would have on their lives, and what they felt compelled to do about it, they spent most of their honeymoon either in bed or in the Jacuzzi. They even made their own meals, because there was no room service. Actually, there was no service of any kind or anyone else for miles around, which was exactly the way the wanted it.

It was by pure chance they caught the story on the news when checking the weather forecast to see how chilly it was going to get that night. They were contemplating taking a long hike up to the mountaintop, wanting to watch the sunset from the highest peak they could climb. Then a breaking news story changed their plans. It canvassed the airwaves with reports on the Search and Capture Operation for wanted fugitive Warren Stacy. The term Manhunt, now deemed too inhumane, was no longer a part of the lexicon.

Without a word discussed over what they should do next, Michael and Eve headed home. They left early Monday morning, just two days after arriving, and didn't want to listen to any more news reports while driving home. It was too surreal, only making them feel helpless and unable to do anything, at least until they got back.

According to the news they already heard, Warren was a wanted fugitive for the attempted murder of Guardian Administrator Cain and manslaughter for the bomb blast that killed Larry Barbra at Caesar's Palace the morning after their wedding. The report said there was evidence found on the scene incriminating Celebrity Chef Warren Stacy as the bomber. It alleged his motivation derived from his homosexual relationship with his longtime roommate, local sports commentator, Owen Sandy. Charged as an accomplice, Owen was arrested and taken into custody without incident, but Warren fled from his television studio set before being arrested, and he was currently on the run from the law.

The honeymooning couple could not believe it. They were ready to swear it must be a nightmare, but how could two people have the same waking dream. Fortunately, one piece of information provided them with some comfort.

The news also reported that Owen and Warren would have television personality Jacob Rose as their defense counselor, who already proclaimed his clients innocent and falsely accused of the crime. He also asked for a patient refrain in understanding Warren's erratic reaction, stating confusion and fear caused him to flee, not guilt.

The next bit of news was shockingly believable.

Special prosecutor Ricardo Danielle told reporters Jacob's friendship with the defendants was clouding his judgment, not wanting to believe the truth about people he knew. Ricardo said their motivations derived from their aberrant sexual desires, causing them act against the system, along with their biological natures. Alleging they spread their degenerate sickness in underground sex clubs, where they were free to explore every form of lustful depravity and openly express any sordid fetish—a modern day Plato's Retreat.

A few miles from home, Eve broke their stunned, silent journey with a simple statement. "This is just the beginning; they will be coming for us next."

Before replying, Michael's phone started playing his Star Trek theme ringtone. Switching to the auxiliary video mode, he answered it as Jacob's face popped up on the dashboard monitor.

"I take it you heard the news report on Warren and Owen," Jacob said after noticing where they were receiving his call.

"Yes. We will be home shortly. Is there anything else you can tell us? This whole thing has us shaking our heads. How could something like this happen?" Michael asked, hoping for any updated inside information.

"Not on an open line."

"Gotcha, where do you want to meet?"

"How about my office, after you drop off Eve?"

"I would like to come along," Eve stated her wishes against staying home.

"It would be better for now if I could speak with Michael alone, Eve. It is nothing against you. It is more for your protection. Michael can fill you in when he gets back."

"All right, if you think it best," Eve conceded.

"Has Warren tried to contact you?" Michael asked.

"No. And I don't want to know if he tries or tried to contact you?'

"No problem. I understand. I should be at your office in about forty minutes."

"Great, we will talk more, then," Jacob said as the video monitor blanked out.

They were only eight miles from home, and his commute to work was just twenty minutes, giving him time to make Eve comfortable before going. He did not know why Jacob didn't want her to come. Although from the way it sounded, the situation had intensified since Warren's hurried flight from the law made the news.

Pulling into their driveway with plenty of time to meet Jacob, other determining factors caused Michael to miss his meeting completely. After stepping out of their family Eco-SUV, he noticed something out of place.

While it would not be a problem to go away on vacation and leave your doors unlocked, the neighborhood watch recommended residents secure their homes when away in case a stranger wandered into town. Not wanting to appear paranoid or unsafe, Michael and Eve decided on a fake rock hide-a-key when they were both out. But the rock was not setting in the special place where he left it. Somebody moved it.

"Somebody has been here," Michael informed Eve as he knelt down to pick up the fake rock to remove the key, except it wasn't there. "And I think they are still here."

Eve looked around to see if she could tell if anything else appeared out of place. Everything seemed normal with the front door shut. There were no broken windows or any visibly ajar. Cautiously scanning the front of the house, she caught a slight flutter coming from the second floor window curtain.

Without pointing or making any quick gestures to alert whoever was watching, Eve spoke softly. "The curtain on the second floor window just moved."

"I think I know who it is," Michael said.

"You do not mean..."

"Yep. If you think about it, where else was he gonna run."

"Poor, Owen."

"Well, let's go in and try not to spook him. Warren is not cut out to handle this kind of pressure and is probably climbing the walls by now." Michael said putting the fake rock back and standing up.

Casually walking to the front door, Michael and Eve entered the house through the unlocked door.

A dark silence greeted them inside as they quietly headed upstairs with the lights off. They stopped at the top of the stairs, unsure how to approach their frightened friend. Nodding to Eve, Michael indicated with some hand signals he was going to call out to their scared guest.

"Warren, we know you are here. It is safe to come out now."

"Please, Warren, you can trust us. We do not mean you any harm," Eve added the friendly sentiment.

The door to the guest bedroom opened inward a bit, but no one came out.

"C-can you c-come in?" Warren's stuttering voice called out to them.

As they entered the room, Michael reached over to turn on the light switch located on the wall next to the door, but Warren's terror stricken voice stopped him.

"No. Please. Leave the light off. I do not want you to see me like this. I...I couldn't hold it and I...I was too scared to move," Warren admitted, cowering in the corner next to the bed by the window he looked out.

Seeing a man so close to the edge of his sanity breaking, Eve felt her own sympathetic emotions welling up inside her, and thought it best to make up an excuse to step out for a minute, so she wouldn't come apart at the seams, too.

"Warren, how about I go make you a nice hot cup of tea to help you feel better. Would you like a cup?" Eve asked, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

The suggestion seemed to make Warren forget about his troubles, letting out a hopeful sigh of relief as if a cup of tea could solve all the world's problems.

"Tea? I would really love a cup of tea."

"You take milk and sugar, right?" Eve asked as a smile crossed her face from the good feeling she got from being able to help out in some small way.

"A little honey would be nice." Warren answered, gaining a little more control of his faculties than before.

"However you like it, Warren. Even if I have to go knock down a bee hive to get it," Eve said before leaving to make the tea. A few feet down the hall, she had to hold up a few seconds to choke back her own tears of sorrow.

Noticing her paused exit, Michael held up a moment to see if Eve was okay before turning his attention back to Warren after receiving an acknowledging nod from her to go on.

Walking over to where Warren curled himself up in a sitting fetal position on the floor, Michael knelt down, trying to project a sense of calm.

"Hey, good buddy. You don't have to worry about anything, anymore. You are safe here. And soon this whole mess will be all behind you."

Michael's attempt to calm him down failed as Warren totally came apart, crying out his words in heavy sobs.

"What in the name of all things beautiful is going on? How can this be happening to me? I...I don't understand any of it. Nothing makes sense anymore. They even arrested poor Owen, and it just kills me to think he might be suffering because of something they are falsely accusing me of doing. Why, Michael? Why me?"

Michael's heart went out to his sad friend as he reached over and gave him a supportive hug.

"Hey, hey, come on now. Everything is going to be all right. It is just some horrible mistake. You will see. The whole mess will be sorted out before you know it." Michael said as he gave Warren's hair a friendly ruffle.

Warren was able to bring himself together, but remained on the edge of losing it.

"Look, don't go worrying yourself about Owen. He is a big, tough guy, and no one is going to give him a hard time, no matter what lies they say about him."

Looking straight into Michael's eyes, Warren told him something he wanted to speak out loud to someone who would not only understand, but also be happy for him. "The part about us being a...well...you know... is true, but not like what they are saying on the news. We don't frequent underground sex clubs. I never even heard of such a thing. We just enjoy each other's company. We make each other a whole person." Warren said as he confessed with a smile and a little laugh, surprised how good it finally felt to tell someone, even under the present circumstances.

"Hey, there is nothing you have to justify or explain to me. If two adult people mutually feel the same way about each other, who am I or anyone else to say they are wrong, especially if a strong love exists." Michael tried to offer him a little peace of mind in knowing he did not judge his feelings. "Come on now. Let's get you cleaned up. I have some clothes that should fit you, and I bet your tea is almost ready."

Michael stood up holding out his hand, and after a thoughtful second, Warren took the helpful hand.

"Tell you what. I'll give Jacob a call. He will know just what to do. He is probably wondering where I am. He should be expecting me to be there about now."

"Are you sure we can trust him? He has some pretty powerful friends." Warren inquired as to where Jacob's loyalties might lie.

"Of course you can. He is going to defend you if this ever sees the inside of a courtroom, and I sincerely doubt it ever will." Michael said as he picked out some clothes for Warren before heading to the main bathroom.

"Okay, if you are sure, Michael. Other than Owen, you are the only person I completely trust."

"Believe me. You can trust Jacob, too. You will see. Everything is going to be fine. Let me check on your tea, while you go wash up," Michael said before heading to the kitchen as Warren closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower.

Eve arranged a tea set on a serving tray along with three teacups and a jar of honey. Entering the kitchen, the thought of having a cup of tea had not occurred to Michael until seeing the third cup on the tray. Then, the thought of a nice cup of tea warming his insides sounded pretty good, thinking he might try a little bit of honey in his, too.

"How are you holding up? Are you okay with this? I know how high the stakes are. And the tremendous risk you have been through already. The last thing I want to do is bring any more stress into your life. You already had to endure enough on my behalf." Michael said as he tried to decide if he should split his allegiance between his good friend, who he had no doubt was innocent of the bombing, or his one true love to who the threat of exposure was still a clear and present danger.

"Oh, please don't worry about me. I will be fine. You need to do whatever you can for Warren. He is family, and that is what we are trying to protect. A good man falsely accused of a crime he would never commit, which is something you do need to be concerned about, Michael. Because if you and I were ever exposed, you would be the one in the most danger, since your very existence is their biggest threat. This is why you should let Jacob take most of the heat this situation is going to generate. He is well insulated as you know, almost fireproof." Eve explained the risks involved, also showing her good-natured will.

"I better give him a call." Michael remembered his tardy meeting. "You are certainly right about him. He doesn't have to worry about being in the public's eye. He is the public's eye."

As they stood in the kitchen discussing the best course of action, Michael took out his phone to call Jacob, but an oddly familiar sound coming from outside made him think of Warren. He could not place the sound at first, until hearing it connected to another very distinct sound, also coming from outside, which alerted Eve to the same conclusion Michael came to as she gave voice to hers.

"Did you just hear our car start up?"

Without another word, they reflexively ran to the front door. As Michael opened it, they could see Warren driving away in their car.

CHAPTER TWO

### CHEF ON A HOT TIN ROOF

1

The surreal image of the silver Eco-SUV moving slowly down the road, surrounded by four security patrol cars with flashing red lights and sirens blaring, appeared to be happening in real time as indicated by the word LIVE on the upper left-hand corner of the large monitor. On the bottom of the screen, the headline for a breaking news report on the Search and Capture Operation for wanted fugitive Warren Stacy, simply read; MERRY CHEF ON LAM, GETS GOOSE COOKED.

A news-anchor reported how the Western Territorial Security Police took control of the stolen vehicle using the computer override switch built into the GPS units on all modern forms of transportation, and they were currently in the process of escorting the fugitive into custody.

The image froze on a close-up of Warren behind the wheel, holding his hands up to his forehead, visibly distraught, and tearfully sobbing. Pointing a remote control at the large screen, Ricardo put the video of the three-week-old news story on pause. He was playing the video for the court in the trial of Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy on charges of improper physical conduct, manslaughter for the death of Larry Barbra, and treason for the attempted murder of Guardian Administrator Cain V. In showing the news report to the court before his opening statement, Ricardo attempted to bring to light the effect the defendant's disease had on their minds.

"I just don't get it, nor do I understand it. There is really something wrong going on around here when well-respected men, pillars of the community, can fall from grace so hard and so fast without any warning of their impending mental disabilities. It is an epidemic we need to eradicate before it infects us all." Ricardo began his opening statement with the sound and fury of a bible-thumping preacher condemning Warren's and Owen's sexuality and blaming it for their crimes—a sound and viable approach to win over the courtroom without alienating the judge and jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, members of the court, honorable Guardian Administrator Cain V, and fellow citizens of New America bearing witness to these proceedings, I am here today to prove to the court the undeniable guilt of the defendants. I felt it necessary to show this footage to demonstrate how Warren Stacy's sexual psychosis caused him to flee, exhibiting the same cowardly weak will he displayed when plotting against the life of Guardian Administrator Cain V.

"Unlike many religious beliefs from the past, which considered homosexuality to be a grievous sin against god, we now know the condition to be a malady of the mind and not an act of eternal damnation. In doing so, we learned to treat the sickness as you would any mental disorder, with psychological therapy and psychiatric medicine, instead of praying for a cure." Ricardo explained the modern day thinking on the subject.

"Unfortunately, like a malignant tumor, once the cancer spreads throughout the body, it is too late for a cure. This virulent disease infects the mind with a distortion of reality similar to what some past serial killers suffered after living through unbelievable physical and/or emotional abuse as a child until their sanity finally broke, and what remained was something less than human. You may very well feel sympathy for the poor, helpless child, wishing there was a way to go back in time to prevent the abuse from ever happening, but once they become a monster you have to treat them as you would a rabid dog before they bite you. This homosexual disorder works on the mind in the same manner." Ricardo tried to win over the jury by expressing compassion for the inflicted, while damning their mind-altering illness.

"This gay disease perverts the mind along with the flesh, motivating good people to do terrible things they normally would never do. It was one of the most pervasive symptoms for the fall of civilization at the start of the 21st century, manifesting a moral decay rotting away at society until it finally collapsed into total chaos. We used to live in a disinformation age that broke everything down into meaningless entertainment to satisfy the gluttonous appetites of couch potato minds, while also saturating them with endless pornographic depravity on the worldwide web 24/7. Once at the forefront of many great innovations, inventions, and technological achievements, America de-evolved into a morally bankrupt nation. Somewhere along the way, we stopped thinking for ourselves. We embraced religious myths to make some of our most important decisions, while turning a blind eye to the escalating immorality over the so-called progressive years. By the end, we were electing our leaders based on how they believed in god. Or, if they were somebody who we could share a beer. There were some who even denied the evolution of life. Saying things like, _'I don't come from no monkey',_ then go out and build creationism museums with cavemen riding dinosaurs. We became a nation of idiots, a society of ostriches with our heads stuck firmly in the ground."

Taking a moment's pause in his opening statement tirade, Ricardo took a sip of water from a glass on the prosecutor's table as he tried to gage the jury's reaction to his poignant words. He glanced over to Jacob, who was sitting with Warren and Owen at the defendant's table, and took note of the non-reaction to his denunciation of previous degenerate malcontents, most likely waiting for him to connect it to his client's sociably unacceptable behavior.

"This was why at the start of New America, to help regain our humanity, we instituted the Great Purge—a systematic search and destroy mission to remove all pornographic material from the internet, along with any website dedicated to racist hate speech or memberships in previously legal organizations catering to the perverse fetish needs of psychologically damaged people. We then had to root out and dispose of every hard copy, digital recording, video tape, magazine, or any other inappropriate depravity, including hateful symbolic emblems representing the memory of past glory days of racist organizations."

Looking over at Jacob with a clever grin, Ricardo exuded a sly confidence, knowing the next part of his statement would hit him where it hurt—his pride.

"Even the landmark work of my learned, opposing counsel supports my argument. His first, highly acclaimed special, called The Elusive Gay Gene, established the present day thinking on homosexuality, even going so far as to calling it a psychological disorder. This is what the defendants suffer from and what led to their irrational plot to overthrow the government. During this trial, I will present incontrovertible evidence that will prove beyond a shadow of doubt the guilt of the defendants on the high crimes charged against them."

Ricardo felt quite proud of himself after giving his opening statement. He sat down at the prosecutor's table, wanting to tilt his chair back, with his feet propped up on the table, and his hands clasped behind his head. He fought back the urge, sitting up straight with folded hands. So sure the power of his words won over the jury, he felt if this were the Wild West they would be stringing up Warren and Owen out in front of the courthouse about now.

The trial of Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy took place at the Colorado State Capitol building on a mid-morning Monday in early December. Built in 1890, intentionally reminiscent of the United States Capitol, the venerable, old building was located near the downtown Denver civic center, and now served as the New Nation's Capital and Supreme Court of the land. Sticking with the philosophy of throwing out the bad and keeping the good, they decided to leave the legal system structured according to tried and true methods, but with some minor changes. A judge and twelve member jury system was kept intact, except now potential jurors submitted their names for consideration and had to prove they were qualified to sit on a jury. Ignorance was no longer bliss. Of course, a potential juror could not have specific knowledge of the case, but did need to be familiar with the type of crime committed; i.e. in the trial of someone charged with computer hacking, the people passing judgment on the offender should know something about computers. In the past, many guilty people went free while some innocent ones went to prison, sometimes on death row, simply because one or more of the twelve did not understand the evidence presented to them.

One visible change in all legal proceedings and practices was the removal of the word god from every court document and quoted doctrine engraved in the hallowed halls of justice, including the oath people swore to tell the truth on, no longer done on a bible, but The Book of Tomorrows, instead.

Back when the world reverted into a savage land, the only law and order to be found, aside from survival of the fittest, came from whoever was in charge of whatever city, town, village, or any other kind of settlement people carved out for themselves. Usually ruled by some half-baked despot their tenure of rule depended upon having the force of strength to keep it.

Then the Prophet Warrior came along with The Book of Tomorrows and put an end to all that, bringing about peace, prosperity, and justice for all.

Well, maybe not all.

Warren sat at the defendants table wishing the whole nightmare were over, taking some comfort in seeing Owen for the first time since the horrible mess began. Owen's presence was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He was the rock that held him together, much in the same way he enabled Owen to stay in touch with his sensitive side, something only Warren seemed to be able to bring out in him. If Owen had been there that day, he would never have run off. Well, drove off in poor Michael's car. They had been through so much turmoil already and didn't need his headaches, too. But after the warning call from Hanna, of all people, he was too frightened to think straight and running seemed like a good idea at the time.

While he remained grateful for Hanna's timely call, even if he could not understand why she did it, Warren had doubts as to where Jacob's sympathies lied. Owen and Warren were living in their apartment for almost a year before Jacob moved in, with Michael following soon after. Their two previous roommates moved on after successful matches by the SBP, giving them the opportunity to get to know one another. In the time they had alone together, Warren and Owen became close friends despite being as different as night and day. They developed strong feelings for each other, only not with the heated passion of Michael and Eve. Theirs was more a compassionate understanding for the needs of the other. They were the perfect odd couple.

A month before Jacob moved in, Owen came home late one night from covering a boxing match and found Warren terribly upset over something he saw on television. Jacob's first special, The Elusive Gay Gene, premiered that night, something everyone was talking about, saying how this Rose guy would be big one day. Warren thought it might answer some questions about these strange feelings he had whenever alone with Owen. Instead, it left him thinking he suffered from some kind of mental derangement. He wasn't going to say anything. Except when Owen asked him what was wrong, it all came pouring out of him. What the special said, how he felt, and how he would understand if he repulsed Owen and he wanted him to move out. But a miracle happened instead. Owen understood. Even better, he felt the same way, but was too confused to say anything about it.

They spent their first night together comforting each other with words as they stayed up talking about how they each wanted to say something to the other, but had no idea how to broach the subject. Then when Jacob moved in, real panic started to set in again. Warren could not understand why they sent him there. Not that celebrities garnered special treatment, but Jacob's star was on the rise, and the GAC was supposed to be a big fan. Even Jacob seemed a little bewildered by it when first moving in, but just thought his mentor father figure—who had been guiding his career for as long as he could remember—wanted to give him a lesson in being humble so he wouldn't get too caught up in the big talk going around about his new nightly talk show. It wasn't until Michael moved in a few weeks later when Warren finally began to relax.

Jacob held Michael in high regard from the day they met, and in a weird way, he looked up to him. When Jacob was first starting out, he was unsatisfied with the material provided by his head researcher, Franklin Harriet. Michael, who was only an intern at the time, overheard Jacob complaining about not getting the whole picture for his next special and suggested another perspective in which to present the material. From that day on, Michael became his top researcher and best friend, which gave Warren peace of mind in knowing people rarely caused trouble when content with their own lives.

Warren knew he could trust Michael to do the right thing, but he did not feel so sure about Jacob. It was what made him run after Michael said he would give him a call. Based on his special, he believed Jacob biased against him.

Although sitting at the table with Jacob ready to defend him, Warren now understood he had figured him all wrong. Just as Michael said, Jacob was doing everything he could to help as he prepared to put his reputation on the line for them. He never questioned whether or not they were innocent. He just accepted it as fact.

Jacob stood up to defend his friends with less concern than Warren for his public approval ratings. He planned on using his opening statement to sweeten the bitter taste left by Ricardo's harsh words. By forcing his hand with what he knew must be fabricated evidence, someone made it personal. It was a big mistake he would make the true villain soon regret, especially after unwittingly providing him with the opportunity to turn the whole situation to his advantage by publicly declaring it time to overhaul the SBP system.

"Distinguished members of the jury, honorable Guardian Administrator Cain V who graciously offered to sit in judgment over these proceedings, and the faithful officers of the court, I want to thank you for your time and patience during what I am sure will be some trying moments for you to have to sit through. But the truth can sometimes be a hard thing to bring out into the light, especially when so many shadows have been cast around us."

Walking around the table, Jacob gave the GAC an encouraging nod and a sly wink as he moved by him, making his way over to address the jury.

"Since the prosecuting attorney has decided to base his case on gossip, innuendo, rumors, and distorted evidence, I feel it is only proper to redress some of these slanderous allegations. The first thing I have to dispute is the prosecutor's deceptively revisionist view of history." Pausing a moment, he gave Ricardo a quick, determined glance, imparting a silent message letting him know it was his turn now.

"Some people say I am a bit of an expert on the subject, when in truth I have the best researcher on the planet working for me, and I may even call him as an expert witness."

The jury box set on the right side of the courtroom next to the prosecution's table with the defendants sitting across from them on the left. The judge sat front and center of the attorneys with the witness box located on the jury's side. Jacob walked back and forth in front of the twelve dutiful citizens, gauging the most advantageous position to stand. He found a spot in full view of the jury that obscured Ricardo from their sight as he continued rebuking the validity of the prosecutor's statement.

"The real beginning of the end came for our old world after the nightmarish terror attacks on September 11th 2001. From that day on, we started to destroy ourselves from the inside out, tearing apart the freedoms we built this country on. It spawned a paranoid dread the terrorists never even imagined. Almost overnight, the world changed around us. A fearful ignorance spread out as the global market expanded, with many jobs previously done by Americans becoming either obsolete or more cost effective to outsource to other countries. It bred a racial hatred in the minds of those who never knew hunger. Soon after, anyone who didn't fit in the all-American-apple-pie-mode was no longer considered to be a real American, even if their families had lived here for generations or their son grew up to become President. Hateful racists started pointing righteously arrogant fingers at anyone who was different, blaming them for destroying their American dream. They yearned for the golden years when foreigners knew their place and racial segregation ruled over our schools, workplaces, businesses, and major league sports. They longed for a time when the gays stayed in the closet, when homosexuality was something every race, creed, color, religion, majority, and minority could equally hate, believing it to be the greatest threat to their morally righteous lives. But their hypocritical cries for preserving the sanctity of marriage were in direct contrast with reality, or should I say reality TV shows like Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire, The Bachelor, or any other number of bottom feeding programs promoting the commercialization of love and marriage."

Jacob moved around to the front of the prosecutor's table and looked at Ricardo as he made his next poignant remark. "We always fear what we do not understand."

Like an actor hitting his mark, Jacob returned to obstructing Ricardo's view in front of the jury.

Hanna, Eve, and Jean were sitting quietly in the back of the courtroom with about twenty-five other observers and court reporters. The three of them watched the trial in a silent bond of unity, not knowing how close a connection they had to each other. Caught off guard when Eve discreetly thanked her for the warning call she made to Warren, Hanna was reluctant to admit to it at first, feeling she might be taking an unnecessary risk, but felt she could trust Eve.

"One thing I am as certain of as I am of my client's innocence is the equal rights allowing homosexuals to get married did not cause the breakdown of our old civilization. Any more than it would have an effect on our present society." Jacob continued denying Ricardo's inciting allegations without refuting his client's sexuality.

"Good people of the jury, being gay or lesbian did not have anything to do with the destruction old world. The real culprit was corporate greed subsidized by corrupt politicians. At the end of the 20th century, we opened up a Pandora's Box of technology so revolutionary that once turned on, it could never be shutoff. Because once invented that thing can never be un-invented it, or I am sure Oppenheimer would have unmade the atom bomb. And while I will never claim to be an expert at something I'm not, I can honestly say, and I believe many people around the country and in this room here would agree, I am a well-practiced authority on human behavior."

Almost as if the trial was a live television broadcast of one of Jacob's specials, everyone in the courtroom impulsively started clapping in agreement with the court's pseudo-host. The GAC even put his hands together for a few seconds of obligatory adulation before catching himself.

"This homosexual phenomenon has been around since the beginning of human history, with famous figures like Plato and Alexander the Great having a proclivity for the act. Many ancient cultures thought of it as a viable alternative for people in position of power to use to dominate others, whether they were willing participates or not. They did not consider it a sin or morally wrong.

"So after subtracting religion from the equation, we are then left with only three theoretically credible answers to account for the anomaly, which is what it is and not an immorally aberrant act, unless done against ones free will. Yet the real question is why does it happen? There has to be a reasonable explanation for the continued existence of this anomaly in our species over the centuries. Out of the three, the first has given so-called normal people the most comfort in believing it could never happen to them, because they must be freaks of nature, a biological mistake. The second theory I personally endorsed in my aforementioned television special called it a mental disorder, which has become the standard explanation for the condition. It is also the one that strikes the most fear in people, believing it could happen to anyone of them, at any time, and without warning. But once new information is introduced to the equation, you may calculate a different conclusion and to blindly continue with the same view would be as much of a hypocritical farce as this trial."

"Objection. Opposing counsel is making a mockery of these proceedings," Ricardo indignantly rose to his feet shouting out his disapproval of Jacob's attitude. "He is treating this trial as a joke."

"Sit down, Ricardo. You had your chance to pollute the minds of the jury with your ludicrous claims," Jacob said in objection to his objection.

The sound of the GAC banging down his hardwood gavel on a sounding block got everyone's immediate attention.

"Overruled," the GAC judged. "I gave you some latitude in presenting your case, Mr. Danielle. It is only turnabout fair play to grant the defense counsel the same opportunity. I am sure the fine, intelligent members of the jury will be able to separate fact from opinion when deliberating the evidence."

Ricardo begrudgingly sat back down, unsatisfied with the ruling. "Thank you for those clarifying remarks, your honor. Because Guardian Administrator Cain is absolutely right. These are only theories. But one thing is perfectly clear. The continued existence of homosexuals throughout time without any deviation in intelligence or physical deformity, often seen in the children of incest or people with psychotic tendencies from untreated mental disorders, would seem to rule out it being either a genetic mistake or a psychological illness. Leaving only one other conclusion to draw. It must be part of our DNA, a built-in mechanism in our genetic code to thin the herd, so to speak."

Muttered laughter echoed out in the courtroom at the animalistic comparison of our species behavior, but fell to a hushed silence as Jacob's next sentence got their full attention.

"Now, I would like to talk about sex." Jacob said taking a moment's pause for effect. "I want to discuss two very different schools of thought on the subject. One is the narrow-minded view of sexual intercourse being for the sole purpose of procreation. If that is true, then homosexuality was something never meant to be. Of course, we were never supposed to fly, either. Nor was mankind meant to be able to travel long distances to far off places at great speeds in the air, on land, and above or below sea. So we do not want to get too caught up on what is or what should never be; the world has always been what we made it." Jacob said before starting to walk away, but turned on his heel to face the jury to make another intriguing point.

"The alternate philosophy we must acknowledge is the powerfully instinctive, universal need in almost every animal on the planet to be compelled by the pleasure factor. In order to prevent a species from dying off, sex had to be an insatiable desire built into our biological natures, driving every creature during a certain time of their life to seek out and find sexual gratification. It reminds me of the joke asking that age old question, how do porcupines do it? The answer simply is, any way they can." Jacob said as everyone in the court, including Ricardo, got a kick out of that little tidbit.

"It is part of the circle of life, sometimes by any means necessary. Male animals in season will fight off other males to get to a female in heat. There are some who will even go against the grain in an effort to get back to where it all began, even if they have to die trying, like Salmon swimming upstream of raging rivers to spawn where they were born. A good friend of mine is fond of saying how you can learn a lot about life from old television shows, movies, music, and literature. I do have to admit, I never really agreed with him until the other day. He told me about an episode from an old television series featuring a half-alien crew member whose race dedicated their lives to logic and reason to the point of suppressing all emotions, but finds himself driven to the extreme act of attempting to hijack their spaceship so he could get back to his home planet of Vulcan to mate once every seven years, or else go insane. This driving passion made me take a broader look at sex without being influenced by close-minded, puritanical thinking."

A blushing smile crossed Eve's lips at reference to Michael's favorite old show. Hanna was not in on the joke, having never heard Michael's Star Trek theme song ringtone.

"Because it feels so good and can be a wonderful stress reliever, along with a pretty good cardiovascular workout, we should not judge our ancestors too harshly for being conflicted in trying to live according to their god's laws, when they possessed the freedom of choice to do whatever they wanted. So if someone wants to have sex for the pure pleasure of it, who is to say what is right or wrong, natural or unnatural, normal or abnormal, as long as it takes place between consenting adults. Since being recently matched to a beautiful, kindhearted, bright young woman, I can personally testify to gaining a fresh perspective on the subject."

It was Hanna's turn to blush from the personal joke only she and Jacob were in on, simply because they decided to follow Michael's and Eve's thought process in waiting until they got married before consummating their relationship.

"How sex has been viewed over the years often depended on when and where you were living at the time and judged from within that narrow perspective. For example, if someone were able to travel forward in time from 1870 to 1970, the sight of women wearing bikinis, hot pants, and tank tops, along with the sexual revolution in full swing as longhair hippies went around preaching the gospel of free love, getting high, and rock music, they probably would have had a heart attack from the shock alone. And if someone told those same hippies living in 1970 what the future would hold with internet pornography, people e-mailing each other naked pictures, and then posting them online, they would more than likely ask what you were smoking."

After postulating the response of his hypothetical hippie stoner, Jacob took a moment to check his watch to see how much time had passed and if he needed to stretch his opening statement, something that shouldn't be too hard for a talk show host to do.

"This was why when first starting over we needed to purge our baser natures of graphic depictions of sensual stimuli, and what we did then was right for the time in which we lived. We had to change our way of thinking to prevent suffering from the horrors of starvation. We needed to put an end to violent abusive relationships, along with the insanity of some medieval religious practices. We had to put an end to hating others who were different from us, and most of all, we had to stop being our own worst enemy.

"But now that we have evolved beyond our baser instincts, these harsh measures are no longer necessary and have become obsolete. People should be given the opportunity to choose when, where, who, and also how and why they might want to bond with another person and to what purpose. I am not saying we should abandon the SBP system, just expand the parameters to include programs for same sex matches, while also allowing people to select their own mate to run through the system to see if they are compatible."

As Jacob finished his sentence, Ricardo stood up to object, but was throw off by the last part about selecting your own mate. After realizing he was standing there for a few seconds before saying anything, he stuttered through his objection.

"Wh-what is the defense counsel admitting his clients are homosexuals?"

The words, 'it is about time,' quickly ran through Jacob's mind.

"I'm not saying that at all. What I am saying is it does not matter if they are." Jacob was glad Ricardo took the bait before returning his attention back to the jury. "I am not saying you have to understand homosexuality. I do not fully understand it. Then again, I don't have to understand it. Since, I do not have those types of feelings nor am I hardwired that way. We just have to accept that sometimes the bond between two people is so strong it defies logic, like the old oxymoron about how opposite attract."

Heads turned as the courtroom door opened, and Michael discreetly entered the room, gently closing it behind him. Eve sat in back of the court closest to the door. Trying to remain inconspicuous, Michael only had time to blow her a quick kiss. He gingerly walked over to the defendant's table and quietly sat down next to Owen and Warren. He gave them positive, silent nods, while holding up his hands for a patient refrain.

Jacob thought Michael's entrance well timed, hoping he came with news also well suited to their purpose, as he finished his opening statement.

"I would like to conclude by saying not only will I prove my clients innocent of the heinous charges against them, but I will also root out and expose whoever is really behind these despicable acts and disparaging lies." Jacob said in closing before addressing the GAC. "Your honor, I was thinking this might be a good time to adjourn for lunch."

"Yes, I agree. A break and some fresh air will do us all some good," the GAC said, believing the last thing on Jacob's mind was food. "Court is adjourned. We will meet back here in one hour." The GAC dismissed court with a bang of his gavel.

As everyone got up to leave, Owen and Warren waited for Jacob to join them before trying to pry any information from Michael.

"So tell us, what has happened? Did you find something?" Warren asked in a hushed voice.

"Come on now, don't leave us hanging?" Owen said.

"Patience, my good friends, patience," Michael said. "Do not worry. Everything is going to be fine. "

Outside in the courthouse lobby, SI Chandra and Det. Archer were waiting with perceptively different reasons pertaining to their motives for being there. GP Sally only had one reason.

Exiting first, Ricardo stayed over by the door as the court reporters hurried out behind him to get the breaking news story to their perspective editors. Instead of heading toward Det. Archer, he signaled Samantha over with a wave of his hand.

"Excuse me, sir," Det. Archer said in an officious manner as she walked over to Ricardo just as Michael and Jacob stepped out into the lobby.

SI Chandra already deduced where Det. Archer's loyalties were, and pleased it would get her out of the way. Jacob headed towards him as Michael veered off to tell the girls something.

"Is everything settled?" Jacob asked Michael after he joined them.

"No problem, the girls are taking Owen and Warren to lunch, so we are good to go." Michael explained the arrangements made to give them time to go search for clues.

"Okay then, let's go check it out," Jacob said.

"I think we might find what we need there, except none of us has the clearance to access it." Michael said as they left the courthouse.

Meanwhile, Ricardo and Samantha found a conference room for a private conversation to discuss their next move. Ricardo still had the part from Jacob's opening statement about letting people choose their own SBP mate floating around in his head. The thing he wished for the most and been covertly working towards all this time. But he already played his hand and bet big with people who would not take it too kindly if he turned his back on them now.

"Tell me what they are up to. Why did they take off in such hurry? What does Chandra think he has found?" Ricardo asked about any pertinent information she might have overheard.

"They are definitely up to something, but Chandra's not telling me anything. Kept me busy doing reports all morning while he and that ex-roommate of theirs went out looking for something. Whatever they were trying to find has to be close." Samantha told him everything she thought could help. He might be able to read something between the lines she was not seeing.

"I don't trust them. They are up to no good." Ricardo said.

"What is the press all excited about? Is it in response to your opening statement? Did you win over the jury and the press with your stirring indictment showing how their mental psychosis could happen to anyone, even respected figures like the men on trial? I knew everyone would hear the urgency in your words and take immediate action when you read it to me the other day. If you cannot win their respect with a valid argument, then maybe fear is the next best thing."

Ricardo felt things did not go quite as planned. By the time Jacob finished his opening statement, the momentum seemed to shift in his favor.

"I do not have time to think about that right now, or some slick-tongued orators' mesmerizing effect on public opinion. He is overreaching, and it is going to cost him. I know there is nothing to find," Ricardo said confident Jacob was picking at straws.

Ricardo purposely didn't mention Jacob's revelatory news causing the big media buzz, figuring she would hear about it soon enough. He could just see the headline now: NUMBER ONE CELEBRITY IN COUNTRY ENDORSES RIGHT TO CHOOSE OWN SBP PARTNER, INCLUDING SAME SEX MATCHES. He could not think of a better way to divert attention away from the facts of the case and get the people on his side at the same time. It was a brilliant strategy, only made possible because he opened the door for him. Jacob probably planned the whole thing from the beginning, figuring he would natural blame everything on their sexuality.

The quandary of Ricardo's position didn't allow for anything less than a total victory, or else it might end up costing him everything. He decided from the start to keep Samantha in the dark about certain details of his plan for them to be together, not wanting to risk putting her in harm's way from his actions.

2

In the days following Warren's infamously renowned, boldly unpropitious fugitive flight from the law, Michael and Jacob started working on a defense strategy, minus any proof refuting the incriminating evidence they knew had to be false. Along with the ever vigilant presence of GP Sally watching Jacob's back, the GAC assigned SI Chandra as an investigator for the defense, claiming his skill and integrity were unmatched by anyone. Jacob was thankful for the help, thinking they would not be able to discredit the prosecution's case on merit alone. They needed to devise a stratagem to sway public opinion their way. The people had already turned against Warren and Owen once Ricardo exasperated the situation by blaming everything on their alleged homosexual relationship, which gave people something to rally behind in the name of justice. Man retained a hidden bloodlust kept deep down in our psyche, and we were more than willing to use it when called upon for the right cause. The two popular television personalities lost any public favor. Their fans and colleagues quickly disappeared. Most everyone automatically believed Ricardo's damning allegations. Jacob knew he would need to use different tactics from what he had learned in law school to win them back. He just did not know by what means yet.

The first planned consultation to discuss his client's case met with dissatisfaction from not being able to meet in a sociably acceptable setting more congruent to maintaining a tranquil atmosphere, instead of a gloomy courthouse conference room. Because of the charges against them, Warren and Owen were officially sequestered and forced to live in separate detainment quarters under a court directed order. Jacob had put in a formal request to release them under his custodial supervision, allowing him and Michael to safeguard their care and secure their appearance in court by having Owen stay at Jacob's and Warren at Michael's place. Except, the GAC could not legally overrule the mandatory segregation requirement for anyone charged with unlawful physical conduct.

Hearing them pull up in Jacob's family Eco-SUV on that day, Hanna and Eve rushed to the front door unaware of the change in accommodations, expecting a happy reunion of old friends, even under their present circumstances. After seeing only Michael, Jacob, and GP Sally exiting the vehicle, Eve and Hanna felt disappointed by the absence of welcome guests, but retained positive attitudes, not wanting to add to their worries.

Hanna got used to having GP Sally around. She even made up the guest room for him, which he neglected to use from never being off duty. She could truthfully swear under oath to never seeing him actually sleep. Even though Michael insisted he could be completely trusted, Eve was still getting used to having the big guy around. Harvey's loyalty to the GAC was unbreakable as with his sworn duty to protect Jacob. Like secret service agents of old, Harvey Sally would proudly take a bullet in the line of duty. It did not matter if he liked the person he was protecting or not. It was a code of honor to live and die by that could never be broken.

The relationship between Michael and GP Sally had always been a rocky one until Michael came up with a rather unconventional concept in defending Warren and Owen.

"Instead of running away from the big elephant in the room, we should embrace it." Michael said sitting at the kitchen table with Jacob, Hanna, and Eve. GP Sally silently listened, standing in the doorway.

"Why don't you denounce the two most grievous charges as false, and without admitting anything else, propose a new philosophy explaining how we finally evolved beyond our baser instincts since we gained control over our emotions."

Jacob tilted his head to the side as he raised his hand and ponderously stroked his chin in an inadvertent Thinker pose.

"You just might have something there, my friend."

Giving GP Sally a telling glance of consensual forbearance, Jacob decided it was time to confide in his most trusted friends and loved ones the modifications he and the GAC were planning to institute in the SBP system.

"I think it is time I told you what this is really all about. The day after you popped up out of the water, I was waiting with Eve in your hospital room for you to wake up when Harvey came in and told me the GAC wanted to see me. I had no idea what he planned on telling me or the significance it would have on today." Jacob paused to take a breath before continuing.

"The GAC imparted an allegorical insight to me that day that changed my way of thinking. He conveyed a clarifying recognition of how we now live in a much different world from when first starting over, and why it became a necessary evil at the time to gain control over certain aspects of people's lives in order to save them from themselves. He demonstrated a rational justification for instituting the extreme measures they did, offering an interpretive understanding of how we were only able to accomplish this because it was during a time when the people did not have anything left to lose. Their survival depended on it. It was the lone reason why they were able to pry people away from clinging onto materialistic wealth and foolish superstitions thousands of years old. The Author knew he couldn't save the world he lived in, even with his powerfully written words of wisdom nobody wanted to hear. Our old civilization reached its tipping point. It was too late to stop. For far too long, our ancestors denied the valuable life lesson we finally learned. They remained unwilling to sacrifice the very things preventing their evolutionary growth as a species. It wasn't until after all the wealth and riches in the world became worthless compared to the need for food and shelter, when all the silver and gold couldn't buy you a drink of water or a slice of bread, and the only value a dollar had was the warmth generated from burning it, that they could finally see after dark."

At the end of Jacob's last sentence, Michael let out an audible guffaw before giving voice to similar thoughts going through the minds of everyone seated there.

"Can you imagine some rich fat cats trying to heat their mansions with their millions? They probably cried real tears of sorrow for their worthless fortunes without ever actually shedding a teardrop for the lost lives of others."

"They used to say money is the root of all evil." Eve mentioned the old adage.

"But they were wrong, weren't they?" Hanna added.

"That is because the only place true evil exists is in the hearts and minds of weaker men." Jacob said.

"And women, too," Hanna included her gender.

"This is the reason why our species was granted the free will to choose, to be able determine what is right and what is wrong. It is what defines us. It gives us purpose. It is what drives us to be separate from beasts roaming the earth merely to sleep, feed, and multiply. But like our animal ancestors, you can only cage free will when trapped with our backs against the wall, and then like a defeated beast, we will also become submissive. But once we get a whiff of the sweet taste of freedom, our natural instinct to fight for what we want takes over after getting what we need."

"The power to control others is a totally consuming, completely addictive drug people have always done terrible things to possess." Hanna said putting forth another shortcoming of the human race.

"And just like in the days of old," Jacob continued with his observational indictment of our envious natures to greedily lust after a gluttony of prideful desires, while spurring on a vengeful wrath for fostering our slothful lives. "Once people obtain power, it is very rare for anyone to willingly give it up, because power is the true meaning of wealth. In the past, those with money had the power to control the lives of others through their jobs, their homes, and even the salvation of their mortal souls. They were able to bend people to their will whenever it suited their needs or whimsy. Then again, we still had about as much right to choose as we did before the Prophet Warrior and General Cain came along with a big plan and a powerful army to set thing right, basically saying either you are with us or against us. It wasn't that different from having to pay taxes all your life to keep a roof over your families head and food in their bellies. Many people used to work a job they hated to be a good provider or just to survive. Consequently, if you wanted to remain a part of polite society in the civilized world, you didn't have much of a choice, unless you decided to forgo family connections and become a mountain man or a beach bum. The big difference between then and now is by accepting the will of others to control part of our lives everyone is given the opportunity for a good life—working a job you enjoy without any of the financial worries from the past making you sick or leaving you stuck with hospital bills you couldn't afford—probably experiencing a better, fuller existence than you would have living back then."

"But now that we have turned the corner, we reached the point of no longer being willing to sacrifice our civil liberties for the sake of survival. We want back our freedom to choose. It was really just a matter of time." Hanna connected past desires to present ones.

"This is exactly what the GAC and I have been secretly working on. Except, I am starting to think someone found out about our special reformation project. It has to be someone deeply rooted inside the system, hiding in plain sight. The GAC no longer feels the FWF is our biggest threat, even with the rumor going around that they have found an heir to the Prophet Warrior. The FWF are no longer the ones striking fear in those afraid of losing their power, which is when they start lashing out at people who they perceive could be a threat to their way of life."

Jacob paused for a solemn moment of reflection before apologizing for his part in their friend's misery. "I cannot stand knowing my actions might have set all this in motion, which is how they attack, chipping away at the things you care about the most. I do not want anybody else being hurt because of me. I will understand if anyone wants out. As for me, I have to find out the truth. Because no matter how far we have come, evil will always exist. It grows more powerful with each passing day, until it eventually consumes everything in its path. Unless. Someone is willing to do whatever they can to stop it."

3

As one of those hiding in the shadows, behind a drawn curtain he did not want pulled back to reveal just an ordinary man of little consequence, and not some wise, powerful heir born to set things right, Michael felt he was too much in the sun. Remembering how he almost choked back the sip of tea he was taking when Jacob mentioned the surprising insight the GAC had about his existence, and what it might be causing others to do. He wanted to shout out right then, 'I'm the Prophet Warrior's heir.' Except he could also see the shock registering on Eve's face, too. Discretion won out in the end, still it left him wondering how much they knew, and how much was purely conjecture. Although he felt it would be perfectly safe to confide in Jacob, he could not risk the negative effect it might have on Eve. His instincts told him, Jacob was as unaware of his hidden identity as they were about Warren and Owen's sexuality. Michael figured you don't normally suspect those closest to you, unless you are also doing something covertly, which was why Michael noticed the slight change in Eve's face, and why Jacob did not see his words have a similar effect on Hanna, who Michael sensed was doing everything possible to suppress her own astonishment.

Feeling proud of Jacob for doing what he could to help their friends, Michael oddly enough thought the responsibility should be his. Only, Jacob seemed much more suited to the task then he would ever be, making him doubt his supposed hereditary lineage. Eve still believed in him, as did Jacob in a subconsciously knowing way. One thing Jacob did know, he could count on Michael to find what others could not. Research, after all, was just as much of an investigative process as solving crimes, which was why Jacob partnered him up with Special Investigator Raymond Chandra.

SI Chandra's other new partner did not take to Michael's current assignment too well, especially after Chandra sidelined her with filing reports. Except they kept coming up empty the closer the trial date neared. Combing through Caesar's Palace's parking lot for the past three weeks, Chandra openly discussed his suspicions about the conveniently found evidence. They went through the surveillance cameras canvasing nearly every square inch of the lot, thinking they should have been able to pick up a trail to follow.

Chandra openly admitted he did not trust Ricardo. And after finding time gaps in the video footage, he felt his suspicions confirmed. They focused their search on where Ricardo found the timer trigger, inexplicitly located off camera, hidden in a nook between two storage sheds. A security technician informed them that they had been experiencing problems with signal disruption in the parking lot cameras ever since the wedding announcement.

While Michael found the missing footage frustrating, Chandra took it as a sign they were on the right track. He told Michael the time gaps proved someone else played a role in the bombing, which also gave them a timeline to follow.

"I don't know why I did not think of this before, but we may gain a better perspective by looking elsewhere." Michael gazed skyward, "somewhere way up high."

SI Chandra stared up at the clear blue sky, slightly confused by the ambiguous statement.

Chandra's confusion was not too difficult to comprehend, considering he did not have knowledge of something Michael technically shouldn't. One of the perks of being the top researcher for the biggest celebrity in the country was the occasional insight into sensitive, top secret government projects kept from public knowledge due to the paranoia it might cause people, who would not understand the sound reasoning behind the decision.

Aside from the earthbound technology, there were many satellites launched into orbit around the planet, each tasked with a specific purpose, and still viable for use from long-term power supplies. Just as the terrestrial technology needed to go through massive reboots when first turning the power back on, someone had to figure out how to do the same thing with the satellites floating in space. After years of the brightest minds in the country trying and failing to write and download a program capable of breaking through impenetrable firewalls and bypassing encrypted passcodes, Foster Gideon was a man born for his time.

Necessity often dictated when a true genius needed to be born; like Da Vinci, Einstein, and Edison, their brilliant minds came along in a time when most needed to enlighten, educate, and shine a brighter light on the future. Gideon was one of those unique individuals with the ability to think outside the box. He created the DTR (Dormant Technology Reboot) program to manually take-control over a satellite from earth without having the proper access codes. A modern day cyber-punk genius, he was the William Gibson of his generation with the analytical, brilliant mind of a Steven Hawking's.

Of course, knowing something existed did not mean you could easily access the information, unless you had or knew someone with top-secret clearance, and Michael knew one person who did.

After leaving the courthouse, it did not take Jacob long before becoming cognizant of an overlooked resource tool and the need to utilize it. Jacob was the only one who had the required access at his immediate disposal. Angry with himself for not thinking of it earlier, considering he was the one who told Michael about it, Jacob remained thankful for the chance to exploit a means he was sure his adversary could not access, much less have the chance to corrupt the data.

Heading over to the Luxor, the thirty-story pyramid encased in dark bronze glass was in its heyday a prime example of postmodern architecture. The tip of the pyramid contained the brightest beam of light in the world, visible from space, and powered by thirty-nine Xenon lamps focused into one intense narrow beam generating over 42 billion candlepower of light. Although, since then, there were some modifications made to it, giving it an entirely different function from its original design.

The new focus of the redesigned light-beam came from the brilliant mind of child genius, Foster Gideon. A true Mozart of technology, at age ten, he restructured the light into a high-density, infrared laser beam capable of sending a computer coded program to any targeted satellite. Called Gideon's Trumpet, it allowed the DTR program to take control over any abandoned communication satellite (COMSAT) it targeted and reprogramed it to broadcast live radio, television, and sporting events, while also providing twenty-four hour news and internet access. The eye in the sky served one other vital purpose, maintaining the nation's security with continual video surveillance of the entire planet 24/7.

The extraordinary marvel of human ingenuity behind wunderkind Foster Gideon's DTR program did not stop after downloading it. He also revamped the two hidden containment warehouses designed to amass and store the valuable data retrieved from space. Concealed in two practically autonomous facilities, the main operation center was located on the top floor of the Luxor in a place dubbed the Black Room—since no one was ever seen coming or going from it. Stationed under the resplendently radiant light, the perpetual stream of information enabled everyone in the country to stay connected to each other over long distances. Rumors abounded inside and outside the glass walls of the media capitol as to what purpose the Black Room served, without anyone ever coming close to the guessing truth.

The Black Room had a direct link to its sister facility, the Stratosphere's 1,150 foot observation tower, where the amassed information was stockpiled and housed in massive computer databanks, concealed in the onetime widely renown revolving restaurant called the Top of the World. The fifth tallest structure in the country had been given a new moniker by frightened schoolchildren, who referred to it as the Dark Tower, based on ghost stories made up to keep away the curious minded. Few people knew about either facility, while fewer still had clearance for direct access to the information.

Among the four men entering the main lobby of the Luxor, only GP Sally had the necessary credentials. Jacob heard the same ghost stories growing up everyone else did, but never believed in such things. One day he decided to ask his mentor about the local urban legend. The GAC had been his guardian since his mother died giving birth to him. His mother used to be a cook for the GAC and got pregnant when only seventeen. Jacob never knew his father, and his mother claimed the same thing, denying his existence right to her grave. While his mysterious birth might have been the root cause of his inquisitive nature to seek out and expose hidden truths from the past, Jacob never asked or wondered about his birth father. Something his journalistic mind never sought to investigate.

The GAC explained the sound reasoning for maintaining control of the sensitive information on that long ago day when childhood curiosity caused him to ask about the mysterious Black Room and Dark Tower. Jacob could grasp the necessity of protecting the public from themselves through use of extreme measures when essential to accomplish their ultimate goal of peace and prosperity for everyone. Knowing how even the Prophet Warrior understood the need to pick up a sword when words weren't enough to make people see the truth. Another valuable lesson, he took away from that day was that things were not always what they appeared to be, and GP Sally was one of those onion people, the more layers you pulled back, the deeper the mystery became.

He belonged to a special, elite group identified by a retinal implant that granted them access to the highest levels of security in the country. The GAC was the only one with power to recruit and authorize their mission objectives. After joining the Department of Security, Harvey swiftly rose up to become one of the top members of HOUSE, earning him the respect of all who served with him. Within ten years, they promoted him to the high-ranking position of Guardian Protector to the GAC, who he served for the next twenty-two years. Then in an unprecedented move, Guardian Administrator Cain V did something no other GAC before him dared do; he assigned his personal protector to watch over someone else fulltime, causing a slight murmur from those who knew Harvey's real identity. Most people based his decision on Jacob's immense popularity, and because the GAC was such a big fan.

The elevator stopped at the 30th floor, heading up as far as it would take them. GP Sally had to escort them the rest of the way. He put his right eye up to the retinal scanner on the control panel, allowing access to the surreptitious 31st floor where the mysterious Black Room of childhood folklore was located. The elevator door opened upon reaching its destination, revealing a short hallway leading down to the legendary room's namesake—a black door. The only other thing in the hallway was a cluster of about twenty video cameras mounted over the black door covering every square inch of the white walled hallway. There were microphones attached to some of the cameras, but there was no intercom for callers to buzz for entrance.

The need for anyone to announce their arrival was totally redundant as all the cameras instantly focused in on the four men standing in the elevator. GP Sally stepped out with the others cautiously following.

"Guardian Protector Sally, I can see you brought some unauthorized guests into my domain. You must have a very important reason for this gross breach in protocol," a deep, loud voice echoed out, reverberating off the hallway walls in a thunderously booming sound as the elevator shut behind them, cutting them completely off the rest of the world.

"I believe you know I do and what it is." GP Sally replied conclusively.

"That may very well be true, but it would be a mistake to assume your needs will always be congruent to mine," the loud voice echoed back. "However, I can see you are in the company of good men like yourself. Special Investigator Chandra's long years of hard work and dedication to the job should have earned him that exemption from retiring he wants so badly. I might have to do something about that. We cannot afford to lose any good men with the dark days ahead for all of you. Even Jacob Rose, the country's most highly renowned celebrity, will soon know the stinging pain of loss, but will persevere to become the great voice of the people he was always meant to be, speaking out on their behalf, fighting against injustice wherever it may hide."

Everyone standing in the hallway listening to the prophetically cryptic words coming from the unseen sage shared Jacob's incredulously confused state.

"And we must not forget about Michael Angel, warrior, hero, killer of large rodent creatures of unusual size scurrying around in the depths of darkness, escaping near certain death, only to rise up to the top in the process. Who knows how far he will go."

After demonstrating his detailed knowledge of their lives, the deep voice got to the point at hand, knowing what they came for and why. A small, hidden slot opened up in the middle of the door and spit a flashdrive out onto the carpeted floor.

"You will find everything you need on that."

GP Sally stepped over and picked up the flashdrive from off the carpet. Handing it to Jacob, they piled back in the elevator and rode down in silent contemplation with the profound words echoing in their heads. Each of them experienced a mixed bag of emotions affecting their brains with one distinctly shared feeling of coming dread.

Chandra managed to suppress the huge sigh of relief he felt surging through him after the strangely believable voice implied he would be permitted to continue serving his country the only way he knew how, also mindful of the warning of impending doom.

Finding himself in a more perplexed state of mind, Michael wondered how the booming voice of gloom knew about him fighting off the large rodent creature down in the damp and dreary dark, especially since he never told anyone about it.

One thing no one doubted was the information contained on the flashdrive would have the irrefutable proof needed to win in court.

4

Inside the Black Room, the source of the thunderously pounding voice originated from the fifty-eight year old, scrawny recluse, who's thin, scraggily grey hair and beard was all that remained of Foster Gideon. His transformation into an eccentric, Howard Hughes-type personality started over forty years ago, the day he locked himself in the special room he designed the moment it was finished, and as far as anyone knew, he had not come out since.

With his birds-eye view of the world, plus the ability to access every surface camera from traffic lights, parking lots, and building security, Gideon had seen too much of everything, eventually becoming too much for him. There has always been a fine line between genius and madness ever since our brains became capable of processing intelligent, analytical thought. Many times being difficult to distinguish between the two, Gideon's creatively brilliant mind teetered on the edge for most of his life before finally slipping over into the abyss.

Anchored in his electric powered command console, Gideon could move freely and completely around the entire room in any direction, up or down, backwards and forwards, without ever leaving his seat. Surrounded by over a thousand video monitors picking up feeds from every security camera in the country and every rebooted satellite back on line, Foster Gideon had become Big Brother watching over everything with his own COMSAT Network at his fingertips.

One of the craziest things about Gideon few people knew aside from the GAC was he took it entirely upon himself to take control of monitoring the Black Room and the fully automated Dark Tower storage center, from which he could access all of the data. In fact, if he wanted, which he didn't, the GAC would not even know how to go about getting him out of there. Gideon might have been a bit of a kook, but he was also the wisest man the GAC knew and probably to have ever lived since the Prophet Warrior. He had full faith Gideon would never do anything to destroy what they built. He only worried about what to do when Gideon was gone, or what would happen if the information should fall into the wrong hands.

5

"I, Ricardo Danielle, hereby swear on the sanctity of the fundamental truths written down in The Book of Tomorrows that the testimony I am about to give will be an accurate and factual account of events or actions I am here to bear witness to and shall not be influenced by personal opinions or biased by the beliefs of others, on this I vow upon my solemn word of honor as a citizen of New America."

Back in court, Ricardo confidently sat in the witness box after swearing to tell the truth on the new oath of honor for giving courtroom testimony. In an unorthodox request made by the defense counsel to present his case before the prosecution's, Jacob boldly claimed he would not only prove his clients' innocent, but he would also be willing to rest his case on the testimony of a single witness, if he was willing to take the stand. Jacob noted the GAC raising an eyebrow after revealing the witness he wanted to call. Savoring the moment for when the bait he threw out hooked a big fish, Jacob waited to see if Ricardo would bite.

Displaying a sarcastic, mocking smile of disbelief, Ricardo took the challenge as a direct slap in the face, and a call to honor he would proudly answer. Freely consenting to the unprecedented offer, he was cocksure Jacob's slick tongue could not twist things in a way to get the jury to believe their attorney's lies and sympathize with the defendants. His case was too solid. However, before taking the stand, Samantha cautioned him to be leery of Jacob's intentions and the odd situation.

Ricardo remained confident in the strength of his case, having no inside knowledge of youthful urban legends being true. He did think Jacob was up to something, but wasn't going to let him get away with it. His clever words were not going to save his clients or him when it was all over and done. It was a decision Ricardo would soon regret after feeling the weight of the swift and damning repercussions it brought down on him.

"So tell me, Ricardo, are you comfortable sitting in that chair? You might want to get used to the feeling." Jacob began his cross-examination.

"As a matter of fact, I am very comfortable. But as you well know, outside of law school, neither of us has spent much time in a courtroom, much less the witness box. With that said, I am quite happy to be given the opportunity to expedite these awful matters, so then we can get our friends the help they desperately need."

"Oh, I see. So you still consider us to be friends. You don't think having two of your friends arrested and persecuted...I mean, prosecuted might not have put a crimp in your relationship with the defendants and myself."

"Unfortunately, I cannot put aside my personal feelings over the law. It is what holds everything together. Something as a member of the BAR, I hope you would know, but I will let my actions speak for my conscience. Also, in my heart, I know what I did was right, and maybe one day when cured, we will be able to put this ugly business behind us. I bet they will thank me, then."

"Oh my, you are an optimist. You have hope for a better tomorrow. Good to know and something else you might want to keep in mind when pondering over all that has happened here today. Because you are absolutely right about one thing. We are all well acquainted with each other. You, me, the defendants, his honor, so this is a bit of an unusual situation we have here. We are veering outside the norm, which should not really matter. As you so keenly pointed out, nobody really knows anyone that well, and sometimes not at all. But we are here seeking the truth, and no matter how you get there, the key to unlocking it is usually found closest to the heart."

"Well, I certainly hope you will get to the heart of the matter sometime before the dinner hour. This seat isn't that comfortable," Ricardo said with a facetious reply, bringing about some murmured laughs and giggles.

"All right then. Why don't we? Now, since you claim my client's alleged homosexuality as their motive, I am left with just one question."

"Go ahead and ask, and I shall elucidate you on the subject, but nothing you say will change the truth from being true."

"I did promise you I would shed some light on it, though. So simply put, if my clients were motivated by their mental state, what motivated you to frame them?"

"Excuse me," Ricardo retorted.

"I no longer think that will be possible." Jacob told Ricardo to his face, stepping directly up in front of him as he prepared to drop the hammer down. "For at this time, I would like to present to the court incontrovertible evidence that not only proves my client's innocent beyond all reasonable doubt, but also clearly implicates the prosecuting attorney of conspiring to frame them for these crimes, proof of which I have right here on this flashdrive."

Jacob held up the flashdrive so everyone could see it, and as the GAC noticed the distinct fuchsia color, he quickly banged his gavel down at the same time Ricardo called out.

"Objection!"

"Chambers."

Watching the desktop monitor with the flashdrive plugged into the side of it, the GAC sat back in his chambers with a visible look of severe disappointment on his face.

"I must say this is very discouraging to see. Why on earth would you do something like this? What could have made you act so irreprehensible? Were you working alone or is this part of someone else's master plan?'

Ricardo stood in front of the desk the GAC sat behind passing judgment on his actions. He had no idea how they knew what they did, but there it was right in front his eyes as the GAC turned the monitor towards him with the video paused on him planting the evidence.

There wasn't much he could say. He would have to take the fall alone. He would never betray the trust between him and his benefactor.

"I don't have anything more to say at this time." Ricardo decided to stand mute until he could figure out what went wrong.

"Well, I am sure going to have plenty enough to say," Jacob screamed at Ricardo.

Standing firm, Ricardo remained silent.

Taking command of the situation, the GAC stood up before things could escalate from the building tension about to boil over.

"Before getting into all this, and believe me, we will, let's get this mess cleared up first," the GAC said, keeping to proper procedure and appeasing Jacob's anger for now.

Back in the courtroom, the jury and the defendants were not the only ones wondering what was going on. Standing in back of the prosecutor's table, Det. Archer started to worry about Ricardo for the first time, fearing he might have lost control of the situation. Something he usually always had, but somehow Jacob had turned the tables on him, something she warned him he might do.

Coming back into the courtroom, Jacob's confident stride and Ricardo's hangdog face pretty much confirmed her deepest fears. Something had gone terribly wrong. They caught him playing with fire, and now they were going to burn him for it.

The murmuring voices grew louder as Jacob went over to Warren and Owen, who could only get a thumb's up sign from Michael. Even with Eve and Hanna indicating a favorable outcome with their happy faces, it still wasn't enough to cull their anxious wonder, until receiving confirmation from Jacob with two beautifully simple words.

"We won."

Warren managed to suppress the urge to jump up out of his seat and hug Jacob, but not the elated emotional release of ecstasy as he let out a high-pitched victory yelp.

"Order in the court," the GAC commanded with a bang of his gavel after sitting down on the judge's bench.

Everyone in the courtroom instantly became quietly attentive, all chatter ceasing, all eyes fixed forward.

Ricardo stood waiting for the dismissal of the charges, also knowing there would soon be new ones filed against him. Samantha remained by his side, desperately hoping things would work out fine, despite the heavy negative vibe she felt coming from him.

"In light of new evidence presented to the court exonerating the defendants on the charges of manslaughter and treasonous acts, due to direct prosecutorial misconduct, I hereby dismiss all the charges with prejudice and would like to express the apologies of the court to Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy. You are free to go. Again, let me offer my sincere, personal regret any of this ever happened. You will both be restored to your former positions and be given nationwide coverage vindicating you of the charges, while I also promise you a swift indictment of the guilty party who falsely accused you of these crimes."

A great cheer rose up from the defendants and their friends, including members of the jury and the spectators. Almost everyone applauded the righteously just decision with representatives of the media and press eagerly waiting for the big headline they knew would be coming next.

"Order, order in the court," the GAC called. "Bailiff, please have the officer of the court take Mr. Danielle into custody on charges of conspiracy to commit fraud."

"Ricardo, what happened? What did you do?" Samantha asked.

A hush fell over the celebratory crowd with the shocking news representing a true moment of poetic justice. The court officer stepped over and proceeded to handcuff Ricardo while reading him his rights. The voice of the bailiff reading the charges against the prosecutor came as such an unexpected turn of events, changing the focus from cheers of victory to jaw-dropping, awestruck amazement.

"Ricardo Danielle, you have the right to remain silent or speak out in your defense with the foreknowledge that whatever you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. If you wish, the court will provide representation for your defense. Do you understand and acknowledge these rights given to you at this time of your arrest?"

"Yes. I know my rights," Ricardo said.

As they led him away, the only other comment he made was to Samantha. "I'm sorry."

Standing in stunned silence, Det. Archer watched them take Ricardo from the court in great shame instead of the glorious victory he had anticipated. Lost in thought, she didn't notice SI Chandra step up behind her until he tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Det. Archer, you need to be in my office at 9 a.m. sharp, tomorrow morning. You have some questions to answer and may have to account for your conduct during any part of this investigation."

"Yes, sir, I will be there."

Warren and Owen once again found themselves back in the public's good graces, surrounded by great friends, who were more like their non-judgmental family. Before going out to celebrate their freedom, the GAC gave them something else to cheer.

"In concluding these proceedings, I want it put on the record that a proposed reformation of the SBP system will be the main agenda for a special meeting of the Committee of Experts tomorrow night. At that meeting, I will strongly recommend the removal of certain restrictions and allow people to choose their own mate from either someone in the system, or perspective couples may select each other to see if they are a compatible match. This new provision will also include a program designed for same gender couple matches. The growing need for change has been made abundantly clear as evidenced by the events witnessed here today. I am sure all twelve experts will agree with my assessment and institute these changes immediately. I would like to thank everyone for their time and patience while sorting through these complicated matters. The jury is dismissed and court is adjourned."

More elated cheers of joy rang out as Warren did not hesitate to give Owen a big hug, feeling safe and secure in who he was and the company around him.

6

With the celebration feast moving into the late evening hours, Warren was still cooking, even though everybody had been full for hours. Like a fish out of water for too long, choking on land, and then unexpectedly tossed back in its wet wonder-world, the familiar confines of his kitchen made the chef in Warren feel like he was trolling through friendly waters again. Almost from the moment he left the court, Warren started baking pies and cakes as thank you gifts to show his appreciation to all those who stood by him and Owen. The first was a special cherry pie he sent over to the GAC after finding out from Jacob what kind he liked best.

Putting the finishing touches on a scrumptiously delicious Boston crème pie for Jacob—his favorite—Warren felt all his worries fade away, replaced with a blissful hope his dream of living free from fear of being his true self would soon be a reality.

If Warren only knew the big, nightmarish, dark cloud moving over their lives, he might have stuck his head in the oven just to get it over more quickly.

CHAPTER THREE

### THE HYPOCRISY OF PROOF

1

The hypnotic aroma of the fresh baked cherry pie wafted through Guardian Administrator Cain's kitchen as it cooled off on the windowsill with the sweet fragrance waking up his taste buds by way of the olfactory canal. Delivered a few minutes earlier by express service, at the behest of Warren Stacy to get it there still warm from the oven, Alexander Cain V considered victory to be very sweet and tasty, too.

Unfortunately, it would end up being a short-lived one, leaving behind a sour tang.

The GAC wanted to just kickback and bask in triumph over those who would stand in the way of progress. He did not believe Ricardo acted on his own volition, even though he fully confessed to it being solely his idea to plant the evidence. It had to be someone else's master plan. Ricardo was only a foot soldier following orders, a cog in the wheel, not someone with the initiative to draft, implement, and execute the deceptive deed, which did not benefit him to take such risks. Unless, he was acting under the impression someone would make it worth his while.

Atera walked into the kitchen as Alexander was preparing to cut a slice and serve her up a nice piece of humble pie. As one of the only individuals who could have enabled him to work covertly, it wasn't too hard to figure out who Ricardo's benefactor was. Atera hardly bothered trying to conceal her involvement after the trial, exuding a steadfast commitment to her cause, which bothered him even more than if things had gone the other way. She remained way too self-confident. The real question he needed answered was why.

"I do not understand how you can let them off on the unlawful physical conduct charge, when they are obviously guilty of the offence. Then you go and justify their behavior by announcing this ludicrous reformation project of yours. How can you destroy everything those who came before you worked so hard to correct?"

The GAC showed no reaction to Atera. He just cut her a slice of cherry pie.

"I think I am going to have a little vanilla ice cream on top of mine. Would you like some on yours, too?"

"Is that all you have to say to me? You are not taking this seriously, and if you're not careful, you will end up at the mercy of your enemies."

"Oh, I will have plenty to say when the time is right, but the only thing I am seriously considering at the moment is how delicious this pie is going to taste. As you know, cherry is my favorite, and Warren makes the best pies in the country. Now, how can I deny the good citizens of New America such a lovely treat?"

Heading over to the refrigerator, Alexander Cain felt his old bones creek as he retrieved a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Sucking up the stinging pain shooting throughout his joints, he refused to show his wife any sign of weakness she could use against him. Digging out a scoopful of rich, creamy vanilla and placing it on top of his still warm slice, causing the ice cream to melt right off as he went in for another scoop.

"Since you have not made up your mind, I will just put a scoop on the side of yours."

"I tried to tell you if you give these people an inch, they are going to want a foot, and if you do not give it to them, they will try and take everything. Just don't say I didn't warn you," Atera predicted before walking out of the room.

With a slight headshake noting disappointment in his wife's attitude, Alexander cut into his slice using the side of his fork. He scooped up a good-size portion with a bit of ice cream hanging on the edge, thinking he would deal with her later, right now, he just wanted to enjoy his pie. A moment after swallowing the first bite, in the time it took to cut out another forkful, the GAC realized something had gone terribly wrong. Gasping for breath while clutching at his chest, his body convulsed in writhing pain as he held onto the kitchen countertop for support. Simultaneously losing consciousness and grip, Alexander Cain V, Guardian Administrator of the land, stalwart partisan in the quest to keep progressive thinking alive, and possibly the last best hope for justice to prevail, fell defenselessly to the floor with a heavy, inert thud.

2

In the passing hours, the evening showers washed away yesterday's sorrows with a cleansing rain of freedom falling down upon the heads of those closest to the heir of the legendary Prophet Warrior. Walking out of their old residence and into the rainy night, Michael and Jacob, along with Eve and Hanna, embraced the wet chilly air with spread out, open arms welcoming the purifying sprinkle splashing down on their faces.

From the fifth floor kitchen window of their condo, Warren had a good view of his friends standing in the parking lot soaking up the rejuvenating rain, understanding how they could give into the irresistible urge.

"Hey, check it out." Warren motioned to Owen with a gentle jab of his elbow and a chin nudge out the window as they washed and dried the dishes together.

"I can definitely relate," Owen replied after peering down. "I have never felt so free in my entire life."

"Me, too," Warren agreed, adding. "I think I will do a special show on romantic dinner recipes for any occasion. People will soon be able to date on their own terms, and they are going to need a good dinner menu to pull off the perfect evening."

"I must confess, I have been feeling a bit philanthropic, myself. There are going to be a lot of sports figures and athletes needing a spokesperson to help them adjust to the new freedoms they will be able to enjoy." Owen bravely volunteered his services.

"Oh yeah, and how would you know which athletes and sports' figures are playing for the other side?"

"It's not like I have any personal knowledge, but it isn't too hard to figure out. I mean, take one look at tennis star Nancy Lee, if she is not a lesbian, than I don't know who is."

"You got a good point, there," Warren agreed as he thought of another famous-athlete who might be in the closet. "I bet figure skater Robin Perry is light in the loafers. No straight man can be that graceful."

"I guess that explains why you are such a big fan of figure skating."

Warren looked over at Owen with a hand-in-the-cookie-jar, caught in the act gaze. After a moment of vocal silence, with the only sound coming from the running kitchen faucet, both of them gave into the laughter breaking through building smirks. Experiencing the same hopeful, unbridled freedom as their friends, Warren and Owen were not the only ones planning for better tomorrows.

3

Rubbing each other's bodies dry from their spontaneous rain shower soaking, Michael and Eve stood naked in the comfort of their bedroom, wrapped in each other's loving arms with damp towels draped over their shoulders. Shuffling over to the bed, they let the towels fall to the floor and jumped under the covers. Fighting off the night chill building in their bones, they cuddled close together, warmly caressing each other. The moment their lips came together, they found themselves overcome with the insatiable need to satisfy their desire for wanton carnal pleasure.

Rolling off of Michael's drained, prone body, Eve flopped down beside him in exhausted ecstasy, silently wondering if they might have planted a seed for future generations to grow on. It sure felt like a beautiful moment of creative bliss taking place, however, not all inspirational feelings bear fruit. Eve's paternal thoughts were more than likely born out of no longer feeling pressured by the FWF to conceive as quickly as possible. The news spread of the revelatory announcement made by the GAC at Warren's and Owen's trial, sending a shockwave of hope throughout the fringe group and causing everyone to take a step back to contemplate the unexpected, comforting news of being freely granted everything they fought so hard to achieve over many long years.

It seemed too good to be true. Jean informed Eve the leaders of the FWF were more optimistic than skeptical, and believed there would soon be true equality for all. Jean could not bring herself to join in celebrating the premature victory, knowing Max was still their scapegoat for the stadium bombing, and would probably now have the blame shifted to him for the Caesar's Palace bombing. Even though she believed Guardian Administrator Cain sincere, Jean told Eve there were those who would do anything to prevent it from happening. People were capable of committing horrendous acts when desperate enough.

Eve took Jean's warning to heart, knowing how hard it was for her to remain positive when her one true love had to live in constant fear of exposure. Except Eve wanted to hold onto the good vibe she felt growing inside her.

"I do not know how to tell you this, or why I am so sure, but I do believe one of your little swimmers made it to shore this trip."

Turning his head toward Eve with a wrinkled forehead and a raised eyebrow, Michael's doubtful look faded away as he gazed into her genuinely earnest eyes.

"You do know it is impossible to tell so soon after." Michael reminded her.

"I am well aware of the facts of life, but that doesn't mean it is not true." Eve insisted.

Michael rolled onto his side as she followed suit. Lying nose to nose, they stared into each other's eyes with an unbreakable love no one could ever destroy.

"You want to know something, I believe you." Michael agreed after placing his hand on her still flat belly. "I can definitely feel life inside you."

"Maybe now our child won't have to live with the pressure of being born to be some kind of warrior prophet savoir. It must have been hard enough for you to comprehend the truth about yourself. I cannot imagine the strain it would put on a child."

"I have to admit, it is a bit of a mind blower. I do not feel any different. Sometimes I think it is all some big mistake. Somebody hit the wrong button or accidentally switched charts. It is kind of a moot point now, though. We could just keep it a secret. There is no reason to make a big deal about it anymore. Besides, I don't know what they expected from me in the first place."

"Well, you do not have to worry about the FWF blowing your cover. As far as they know, you are still in the dark about your hereditary lineage. I wish there was something we could do for poor Max. He rarely gets to see Jean, except for an occasional message drop, knowing how any direct contact would put her in danger of being exposed." Eve explained Max's precarious situation, which caused her to remember something else.

"Oh my, I almost forgot. Max left an urgent message for Jean to meet him at one of their pre-arranged safe spots."

4

Despite the fact, Jacob found great satisfaction in living out his dream of being a big trial lawyer defending justice and winning an extremely important case, he had one equally important, unanswered question preventing his victory over Ricardo from being a complete success. It was the same question that had been worrying the GAC, right before taking a bite of cherry pie, and made Max risk getting caught passing on pertinent information.

Standing under a hot, steaming shower with the spray of water pelting down on him from having it fully turned up, Jacob wanted to burn away the dark thoughts haunting his mind with the prophecy of a stinging loss on his horizon.

Finding himself in the difficult position of trying to protect his friends from becoming targets because of his actions, Jacob also did not want to tip his hand to whoever was the main architect behind these Machiavellian plots and conspiratorial schemes. He needed to go on investigating uninhibited to solve the conundrum of who and why.

So lost in thought, he didn't notice Hanna step into the shower until she put her hands on his shoulders. The welcoming touch of her gently caressing his neck and back gave Jacob a moment's reprieve, helping him to relax for a minute. The last thing he wanted to do was give her anything to worry about, but felt secure in knowing the GAC had his back.

Except Hanna knew how fickle the public could be, remembering how quickly they turned against Warren and Owen.

"Damn, Jacob, are you trying to scorch your skin off?" Hanna asked as she reached past him and turned up the cold water, quickly taking away the scolding steam.

"I didn't notice," Jacob replied with only a slight bit of truth in his words. "Lost in thought, I guess. But my mind is much clearer now that you are here."

"I don't understand why you are so tense. You won."

"Despite winning numerous battlefield victories, many wars have been lost long after the fighting was over. The only way to know for sure who won or lost is to wait and see who writes its history. Then the ultimate winner will be known, whether based on fact or legend."

"Well, to hell with war, I would rather make love." Hanna changed the subject to one more suitable for their current state of dress. Wrapping her arms around his neck in a loving embrace, she gave him a sensually passionate kiss as they spontaneously came to the decision not to wait any longer to consummate their relationship.

Lying in bed after making love under the shower, Jacob and Hanna cuddled under the covers with him on his back and her head resting on his chest. She listened to his calmly beating heart, wishing for it to continue humming its peaceful tune in the dark days ahead.

"Somebody certainly seems more comfortably laidback and relaxed now. I can feel your heart beating in tune with mine, pulsing together as one."

"I do not think I ever felt mine truly beat until the day I met you. I used to think I was so complete, but never knew how wrong I could be. It wasn't until the day we met I realized I was missing the most vital part of myself, and that you had been holding onto it for safekeeping."

"So you better take good care of it, because it still belongs to me and works in harmony with mine. If you break one, you break the other." Hanna pointed out their shared vulnerability.

Rushing into their bedroom unannounced with an urgent message forcing him to forgo the customary decorum of knocking before entering, GP Sally's abrupt entrance made the young couple's hearts simultaneously jump in startled recognition of what must be a serious situation. Something his somber words quickly confirmed.

"There has been an attempt on Guardian Administrator Cain's life."

"What? When? How?" Jacob shot straight up, almost tossing Hanna off the bed.

"Oh, no," Hanna said after catching herself from falling.

"He is alive, but in a coma, supposedly brought on by some unknown poison." Harvey informed them of the pertinent information given to him. Pausing a moment, he appeared to be reluctant to pass on the rest of his instructed message.

"Come on, Harvey, out with it. What else did they say?" Jacob asked as he got out of bed. "I have to get over there right away. I need to know what is going on."

Hanna remained in bed with the covers pulled up over her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs, and held close to her chest. GP Sally's hesitation frightened her more than the tragic news, knowing how Harvey was not a man to worry over nothing.

"That is the only other thing they told me. I should take you over there, a.s.a.p."

As Jacob quickly got dressed, he could sense Harvey was holding something back. It could only mean one thing. He felt this new assignment might conflict with his primary directive of protection, which took precedent over any countermanding or opposing orders.

"Don't go, Jacob. I am afraid if you walk out that door I may never see you again." Hanna pleaded with him, noting GP Sally did not raise any objection.

Also taking note of Harvey abstaining, Jacob spoke for him.

"There is no need to worry about me. I got Harvey watching my back." Jacob said trying to convince her he was perfectly safe. "I have to go and see what happened. Besides, acting like I have something to hide will only succeed in making them think that I do."

"I give you my word of honor, Mrs. Rose. I will not let any harm come to him, and no one can circumvent my standing orders, except the GAC," Harvey stated his irrevocable obligation to duty. It was a code of honor to uphold, especially under ambiguously hazardous circumstances during times of questionable leadership.

Hanna took more comfort in being called Mrs. Rose than either Jacob's or Harvey's reassuring words, even if they weren't married.

"Hanna can you give Michael and Eve a call for me, and let them know what has happened?" Jacob asked her while getting ready to leave. "I need to keep Michael in the loop. His input might prove handy in figuring out our next move once I learn where we stand."

"If you promise to call and let me know you are all right after you get there."

Leaning over and giving her a gentle, loving kiss on the lips and forehead, Jacob left with one last attempt to assuage her nervous apprehension.

"I will, and don't worry about me. According to the GAC, up front and center is the safest place for me to be."

5

Ricardo knew there were certain risks he would be willing to take in order to achieve his desired goal. Always prepared to face the consequences of his actions if exposed, he just never thought it would actually happen.

What bothered him the most was the hurtful look of disappointment he saw in Samantha's eyes. Everything he did was so they could be together, and now she appeared ashamed and embarrassed by his dirty deeds.

Sitting in his cell for the last several hours, Ricardo had not given up hope of finding a way to wrench a victory out of defeat. Just because he was out of game, it did not mean those he worked for were going to give up. As it turned out, he only had to spend six hours in the can before they thought of a way he could be useful again.

An electronic beeping sounded out just before releasing the locking mechanism on the cell door as it automatically slid back on its own. Ricardo heard the familiar sound of the guard's patent leather shoes echoing off the linoleum floor, followed by another click-clacking sound he also knew well. Remaining seated on the edge of his cot, Ricardo cut a rigidly focused presence as he waited for his time to shine again.

"Ricardo Danielle," a big, burly guard said as he stepped up to the open cell door. "By a special decree from the acting Guardian Administrator, you are hereby released forthwith so that you may freely serve your country."

"What do you mean by acting Guardian Administrator? What has happened?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But I do not have that information. You will have to ask your assignment officer to fill you in on the details."

As the guard headed back to other duties, Samantha stepped in front of his open cell door with a computer notepad in her hand that had a classified folder downloaded onto it.

"What's the matter? Don't tell me you can no longer handle being free out in the big, bad world? We do not have time to lament your jailhouse memories."

Standing up, Ricardo stepped over, took the classified folder from her, and pulled up his assignment using a special access code she also gave him. After a quick read, a sinister grin drew a line of satisfaction across his face.

"Let's go preserve our future tomorrow."

"Yes, sir, Chief Magistrate Danielle," Samantha addressed him by his new title.

6

How long had he been lying on the kitchen floor? Was it one hour, two hours? He lost perception of time almost from the moment he hit the floor, along with a total loss of sensation of movement. Unable to twitch a muscle, blink an eye, or even shut one, he could see what was in front of him and hear sounds from a dripping tap, the low hum of the electric refrigerator motor, and distant footsteps. Except he could swear some of the footsteps were coming from right outside the room, mixed in with hushed voices.

From his ground level view, the GAC did not have much of visual perspective, with only chair and table legs in his line of sight. He thought Atera must have gone to bed. But if so, who did he hear talking and moving around out there?

The hushed voices and footsteps grew louder, becoming clearer and more distinct, moving into closer proximity of him, but still out of view. He could hear what they were saying, but the words only confused him with their nonsensical meaning.

"It's about that time."

"I will go make the call."

"Good, I'll check on Alex."

The bewildered mind of the GAC raced around in frenzied wonderment over how he wound up here, and why no one had come to his aid, while also trying to discern the meaning of the conflicting words. Upon gaining a clear perspective from an unimpeachable source of the reason for his awakened nightmare reality, the clarity he received only served to escalate his dire situation from personal health problems to concern for those he cared about the most.

Atera's bare feet stepped up and stopped directly in front of him. As his wife knelt down, she had a self-indulgent justification beaming from her eyes.

"I am real sorry about this, Alex. But you see, it is for your own good, and it will preserve our son's future. You did not leave me much choice. I had to resort to extreme measures to ensure the stability of what we built here. You got soft, Alex, and the world is a hard place.

"I know you can hear and see me. Do not worry. It is not permanent. It is my own special concoction, a powerful paralytic that induces a comatose state by affecting certain areas of the cerebral cortex, bringing on a complete paralysis of the muscles, including those in the speech center. Oh yeah, and the best part is, it does this without any impairment or damage to the cardiovascular or pulmonary systems."

Atera repositioned herself on the floor so she could be face to face with him, real up close and personal.

"My sweet baby, I had to show you who truly knows best. I also have to thank you for providing me with the means to legally take power by enacting Executive Order Two-two-eight."

Standing back up, Atera continued telling her debilitated husband how she would bring about a great change, pacing back and forth with an omnipotent stride.

"I am going to employ an iron fist of justice to wipe out this scourge affecting the people's minds. With the power of authority granted to me, I will enact Marshall Law and enforce tighter restrictions with a zero tolerance against any offenders. While you, you were just going to condone their disturbing behavior, and let them become a part of everyday society."

Moving back down in front of her prone husband, Atera wanted to make sure he could see her impart the last bit of disturbing news.

"Just so you know, as a reward for his loyalty, Ricardo Danielle has been given a full pardon and promoted to Chief Magistrate of the Land. He will use the authority of that power to arrest and prosecute any offender to the full extent of the law. As a matter of fact, he should be re-arresting Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy right about now. Oh, do not worry about your precious pet, though. I will keep him around as long as he behaves and remains housebroken. But if he insists on making a mess all over the place, I am going to have to put him in the doghouse, too."

7

Lying awake in bed at five in the morning, Warren thought what a wonderful day it was going to be. A brand new day for a brand new way of life, a time to rejoice, and he could not just sleep through it. On the other hand, soundly snoring beside him, Owen partook in a different perspective view, more akin to a big bear hibernating for a long, hard winter, finally being able to relax.

If Warren had known the first night they slept in the same bed would also end up being their last, he wouldn't have done anything different. Theirs was not a lustful relationship driven by sensual stimuli. People did not prioritize their lives merely seeking sexual gratification the way they once did when the advertising and entertainment industries used sex to sell everything. So when finally given the choice to express their emotions freely, without foreknowledge to fear repercussions for the act, Warren and Owen did not do anything other than spend the night discussing future plans. They sort of shared a natural affinity with the fictional characters of Felix and Oscar from the Odd Couple movie and television series. Warren helped Owen to get in touch with his sensitive side, and Owen showed Warren the occasional need to present your alpha dog so people knew you meant business. Though, Owen preferred the comparison of two older and more famous fictional characters, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, or real life historical figures, Lewis and Clark or even Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Peacefully thinking about their conversation from the night before, Warren's hopeful future world exploded into a doomed present day reality as Ricardo barged into their bedroom with four armed DOS officers at his side, making him feel more akin to Bonnie and Clyde at that moment. Stunned into shocked silence by the sight of Ricardo dressed in an all-black, Gestapo-type outfit with a badge pinned to his chest, reading; Chief Magistrate of the Land and the Iron Fist of Justice. The words circled around a shield shaped badge with an un-blindfolded Lady Justice holding up her scales, standing on top of an iron fist.

"What is the meaning of this?" Owen demanded. "The GAC is going to hear about this. Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to break in here like this? And where on earth did you get that ridiculous uniform?"

Ricardo slapped Owen hard enough across the face that it sent him sprawling over a now very horrified Warren.

"How dare you speak the name of our beloved GAC after what you have done?" Ricardo screamed.

Struck by the realization something bad must have happened, Warren and Owen felt their happy future fading away.

"Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Guardian Administrator Cain V from a poisoned cherry pie sent special delivery from this address." Ricardo stated.

"That is not possible." Warren said. "That cannot be true. You are a liar."

"You better believe it. Because there is no one who can save you now. The GAC is in a coma, and Jacob is going to be too busy trying to save the rest of his friends to be concerned about you two degenerates."

Noting Ricardo standing in front of their bed, Owen turned to Warren and gave him a big, passionate kiss on the lips, distracting the DOS officers with disgust.

"Goodbye, my love."

Owen leapt up out of bed and blazingly charged at Ricardo in a desperate, ill-advised attempt to grab him by the throat and force him back through the bedroom window directly behind him, even if it meant he had to go with him.

Possessing lightning-quick, instinctive reactions, Ricardo sidestepped Owen's rushed momentum and sent him flying through the fifth floor window with a hard forward shove thrusting him through the shattering glass.

Warren cried out in devastating anguish as Owen fell to his death.

CHAPTER FOUR

### A DELICATE BALANCE

1

Jacob and Harvey were arriving at the front gate of Guardian Administrator Cain's mansion around the same time Owen went flying out his bedroom window. The heavily armed guards kept their guns cocked and loaded, and even the presence of GP Sally behind the wheel did not put them at ease this time. Given advanced notice to expect visitors, the guards were under orders to stand down for no one as an approaching vehicle alerted them into position. Told to search all in coming vehicles (including the ambulance that came in several minutes earlier), they performed a visual inspection of the interior and scanned under the vehicle for incendiary devices. Once satisfied it was completely safe to let them proceed, the guard opened the gate and waved them through, saluting GP Sally in a show of respect.

"You need to be careful from now on, Jacob. You can never tell how unstable the ground might get. The road ahead may be rocky and can lead onto dangerous terrain filled with sinkholes large enough to swallow up whole cities or anyone trying to trample over them. Tensions are running high, so do not let anyone provoke you into acting hastily, no matter how upsetting you may find the news."

"Believe me, Harvey. I have a firm feel for the ground beneath my feet. But before taking to the hills, let's see if we can prevent it from becoming a full scale seismic event."

"There is something else you need to consider when digging around in the dirt looking for answers. By proving your friends innocent, you inadvertently shed a dangerous light on someone else hiding in the shadows."

"I know. I know. The person behind these attacks has to be someone real close to Alex. The victory I won in court could end up costing us everything. I may have underestimated the other side's resolve."

"You do realize there are not many people who are that close to him. It is a very short list. So it is imperative you do not allow anyone to separate us for any reason." GP Sally stated the obvious.

"Harvey, I know you have a job to do, but so do I. It might become necessary for you to give me some elbowroom in there. We don't want to raise any suspicions by acting overcautious. Besides, I doubt anyone would move against me so soon, unless we do something to cause someone to worry. The person behind this cannot afford to lose public favor and will need my cooperation to ensure they keep it. I can use that to my advantage. It gives me leverage they do not have."

They pulled off to the side halfway up the driveway to make room for the exiting ambulance leaving with the GAC. Jacob looked back at the emergency vehicle with only its lights flashing and siren muted, lamenting the silent egress.

"Alex also believed he could win over those opposed to change with the widespread approval of the people. Unfortunately, he forgot how irrational some people could act when afraid of losing their power. Some will do anything to make sure they kept it."

"Fear has always been the universal x-factor motiving people to commit unconscionable acts when caught in its grip. But if left unchecked, it will grow more powerful until finally consuming everyone and everything."

Continuing up to the house, they were just in time to see Dr. Penelope, the personal physician to the GAC, as he was leaving. GP Sally was an old friend of the trusted doctor. Harvey pulled over and parked next to Dr. Samuel Penelope's car as he was getting in it with Warren's cherry pie to have analyzed for poison. Sliding down their perspective windows, Dr. Penelope exchanged quick pleasantries with Harvey before updating them on Guardian Administrator Cain's condition.

"Hello, Harvey, sorry we have to meet again under these dreadful circumstances. I wish I had some good news to tell you, but I don't."

"Why? How bad is it, Samuel?"

"Truthfully, I have no idea. I have never seen anything like it. I can tell you he is stable and breathing on his own. His condition does not appear to be deteriorating or advancing at the moment. It is as if something is preventing the higher brain functions in his cerebral cortex from integrating the sensory impulses of his motor skills, inducing a total paralysis. I never heard of such a toxin. We need to do some more tests. I am calling in the top neurologist in the country and every expert or specialist there is."

"I know you will do everything you can for him," Harvey said with complete confidence. Friends since their schoolboy days, Harvey knew Dr. Penelope would be loyal to the end.

The early morning sun had nearly risen all the way into the dawn of day by the time Jacob and Harvey arrived, almost an hour after the good doctor. They exited their vehicle with Jacob walking around to Harvey's side for a final word with the Doc.

"Can you tell me when it happened, and how long before you were called?"

Dr. Penelope shot a quick glance over to the front porch of the mansion where Atera just appeared and stood waiting with Dawson Flowers, the head of the DOS and personal protector to the Guardian Administrator. Dawson assigned himself to the position after the GAC delegated Harvey's duties over to Jacob's protection.

"The Guardian Administrator's wife told me she found him around five this morning. Said she saw him before going to bed in the kitchen eating a piece of cherry pie, around midnight. I am taking the pie to have it checked for toxins. There is no physical evidence directly disputing her statement. I cannot do anything more at this point, except to wait and see what the tests reveal and the specialists have to say."

Harvey and Jacob instinctively gazed over toward Atera with doubtful thoughts pertaining to the accuracy of her statement running collectively through their heads. Seeming to be clairvoyantly sensing their thoughts, Atera instructed Chief Protector Flowers to escort them to her before heading back inside in a bit of a huff.

"You know I do not have to tell you the absolute faith Alex and I have in your professional integrity and loyal devotion, Samuel, which is more than I can say for some others."

"Thank you, Harvey. I appreciate it and understand your cause for concern. Speaking strictly from a psychological evaluation, having no medical data to back my opinion, I must say there is something very peculiar about Atera's emotional affect. In so, she does not appear to have any. She is displaying a total disregard for her husband's condition and seems more concerned over what people are going to think or say."

"I already briefed young Mr. Rose on the importance of following protocol when dealing with unpredictable situations." Harvey said with a slight insinuation Jacob had not taken his words to heart. He was concerned for the brash young man's determined spirit to seek out the truth, no matter how hazardous the path to enlightenment might be.

"I will be sure to keep you apprised of any changes in Alex's condition," Dr. Penelope told them as he started his car. "Take care of yourselves."

"You too, Samuel," Harvey replied as the Doc drove away.

With his six foot tall, 225lb, body builder physique, sparkling blue eyes, pale skin, and cue-ball baldhead, Dawson Flowers cut a striking resemblance to 20th century advertising icon Mr. Clean. Other than the physical similarities, he had little else in common with the friendly neighborhood cleaning product trademark. His gruff manner and stern rule transformed him into an alter ego of the animated spokesman with the more appropriate moniker branding him Mr. Mean.

While there were not many who called Dawson Flowers a close friend and many more who did not care for him at all, Harvey Sally had a particular disdain for the man. The two kinds of people Harvey despised most were liars and hypocrites, holding the latter in the most contempt for being an amalgamation of the two. Compulsive liars could not help what they were any more than you could blame a snake for being a snake. Hypocrites did not believe in what they fought for, instead they manipulated others to do their dirty work for them, which was how Harvey felt about Dawson.

Second only to the Committee Expert of the Department of Security, Chief Protector Flowers had authority over every branch division of the DOS. The only military force he did not have contact with or direct knowledge of was the ultra-secret spy network created by the present GAC and run by him alone—no one in the group even knew how large their numbers were due to the near total autonomy of each agent.

Once good friends, Dawson took Harvey under his wing when he first joined the DOS, getting him assigned to HOUSE. He wanted to groom Harvey to be his second in command, but felt betrayed by his friend after the GAC recruited Harvey into his new spy network. Dawson thought Harvey used his friendship with the GAC to become his personal Guardian Protector—a highly coveted position.

Believing his friend left him behind, Dawson was not aware of the real reason Harvey left HOUSE had nothing to do with glory seeking nepotism, not knowing the spy group existed. When the GAC first approached him, Harvey asked if Dawson would make a good recruit, only the GAC imparted some disturbing information about his friend, leaving him to feel Dawson was the true hypocrite he came to believe Harvey was after quitting on him.

Harvey came to realize Dawson split his allegiance between Guardian Administrator Cain V and Atera. He was more dedicated to her from the years his family spent protecting hers, dating back to her great, great, grandfather—who was one of the first genetic biologists to make startling advancements in the field of gene splicing.

Walking over to the front door where CP Flowers waited for them, Jacob could sense the building tension in the atmospheric space between the two old warriors.

"What can you tell me, Dawson?" Harvey asked, foregoing any recognition of rank, social conventions, or introductory familiarities.

"Nothing other than what I am sure Doc Penelope already told you," Dawson answered in the same straightforward tone sans greetings and salutations.

"Were you here when it happened?" Jacob asked, trying to stay on topic, more curious if it still would have happened had Harvey been here, instead of watching him.

Before Dawson could reply, Harvey answered for him, having prior experience with the SOP for in-house protection protocols.

"Alex does not want his Guardian Protector staying in the house overnight. He says, if a man cannot be safe in his own home then he might as well tear everything down and start all over again." Harvey reflexively mimicked the GAC.

The often-heard words echoed in Dawson's ear with the voice of the GAC reverberating through his head in a residual memory, bringing on the slightest of grins cracking through his stone countenance.

"Come on, Mistress Cain is waiting for him," CP Flowers said in more of a command than an invite.

GP Sally instantly stepped between the door and Jacob, holding him back with his hand held up as he reminded Dawson why he was there.

"Before we take another step, you better tell me what this is all about."

"What makes you think I know any more than you do? I am not given any proprietary information unnecessary to the performance of my duty."

CP Flowers reminded Harvey of the parameters of his position, along with how close to the vest Atera could play it sometimes. With fingers in many different pies, she did not confide all of her plans with even someone of Flowers' stature.

"I am aware of what a well-trained dog you are. You always did know how to fetch, but you should remember why I am here, and just how far I will go in the line of duty."

"Relax, gentlemen, I am sure she only wants my consultation on the best way to release the news about Alex to the media. I am Mr. TV, after all." Jacob said intervening before things boiled over between the two stubborn mules, refusing to drink from the waterholes where led to. "So please, Harvey, stand down or if you cannot manage that, then step back and give me some space. I am sure I will be perfectly safe here."

Harvey reluctantly acquiesced to Jacob's request, stepping aside after he made sure Dawson got the message and understood the weight it carried. Harvey knew Jacob did not want any conflict arising from their visit, but felt the need to make sure Dawson knew actions had consequences, even if Jacob did not realize the significance of putting your adversary on notice. A message Dawson would be sure to deliver to his superiors as a symbolic line drawn in the sand.

Following Dawson down the hallway to the Guardian Administrator's office den, Jacob found it oddly inappropriate Atera wanted to meet him there. He figured she wanted to make a statement by marking recently claimed territory and to lay down the new law, which turned out not to be too far from reality—actually spot on.

Reaching the open door, Dawson stopped and announced her visitor.

"Excuse me, Mistress Cain. Mr. Jacob Rose is here at your request, if you are ready to receive him."

"Send him in."

Dawson stepped aside so Jacob could enter with GP Sally following behind.

"If you do not mind, I want to speak with Mr. Rose in private."

Atera stated her preference for the meeting from behind the Guardian Administrator's big desk, glancing up from some papers she pretended to be reading long enough for Harvey to see as he attempted to enter the room.

Harvey stopped mid-step and was about to object, except Jacob spoke up after noting the concentrated conviction in Atera's eyes, omitting a warning her wishes better be honored out of respect for the position she now held.

"That is fine by me, Atera. Let me offer my best wishes for Alexander's speedy recovery. I do not have to tell you what a great loss it is to us all not having his sound leadership abilities during these hard times. He is the rock we all depend on to see us through on the dark days. The longer he is absent, the darker it will become."

"Thank you for your good thoughts. I am well aware of my husband's important role as our nation's leader. Unfortunately, until he can resume the position, we will have to make do with the limitations of my leadership abilities. I will be grateful for the advice of those more knowledgeable than I am on matters of public opinion and morale."

Stepping back and shutting Harvey out of the room, Dawson stood by the door exuding a smug demeanor for effectively isolating protector from his charge.

At present, Atera meant Jacob no physical harm. She did bare a malevolent ill will toward the man her husband held in higher regard than his own son, and her as well. Constraining the strong urge to subject Jacob austerely to her will, Atera poetically choose to put on an antic disposition to prevent him from knowing aught of her.

Solemnly rising up from behind the large desk, she walked around with a blithely courageous façade, attempting to alleviate any dubious suspicions about her sincerity. She gave Jacob a supportive hug of condolence, seemingly reinvigorated by his presence.

"I cannot tell you what a comfort it is having you here to help guide me through this dreadful hardship that will affect the entire nation, along with those closest to Alex."

Like two highly skill chess masters, strategically maneuvering around the board for more favorable position, they broke from their awkward embrace with Jacob making the bold move of offering to sacrifice the obligatory pawn, if necessary.

"If there is anything I can do to help, you have my full support. I give you my word of honor I will follow every clue, run down every piece of evidence, no matter where it may lead. I will also personally prosecute whoever is responsible for this heinous act, now that Ricardo is out of the picture."

"A great relief to hear, knowing the passion with which you defended your friends, however unnecessary at this time. Nevertheless, I will need your assistance in presenting the news to the public without causing a panic." Atera said as she moved back around the desk to put some space between them for when she delivered the next bit of potentially disruptive news.

"I have already reinstated Ricardo Danielle. Well, promoted would be a more accurate way of putting it. He is the new Chief Magistrate of the Land granted the authority to enforce the law using the iron fist of justice to root out these rebel traitors." Atera held her hand under the desk and her finger on an alarm button, ready to alert CP Flowers in case the next bit of information incited a dramatic reaction. "As a matter of fact, he should be re-arresting Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy on crimes of treason right about now."

Jacob remained non-responsive, not giving her the satisfaction she sought in getting a rise out of him.

"I imagine you must have some real hard evidence proving their guilt to cause you to take immediate action." Jacob said in a calm voice, denying her the satisfaction of any visible change in his composure, being she could not hear his heart rate increase.

Realizing this must be the reason she sent for him, to prevent him from warning his friends, Jacob had no choice other than to continue playing her game to see if he could find an opening to make a good move of his own.

"You spoke with Dr. Penelope before he left. He must have told you about the cherry pie Warren sent over as a thank you gift. Alex sat down for a slice just before I went up to bed. When I came back down in the morning, he had only taken one bite when overcome by whatever highly toxic concoction Warren baked into it." Atera confidently deduced the delivery method of the poison from having firsthand knowledge of the toxin's source, neglecting to mention the ice cream on top she spiked after seeing the pie delivered, along with the baked cherry dessert after the fact.

"I have to admit that sounds like pretty incriminating evidence."

Jacob let her think he believed her feasibly implausible theory to avoid throwing suspicion on the only other conceivable suspect—her.

"I just do not understand why he would do such a thing, especially now." Jacob questioned Warren's motives while culpably insinuating his guilt, giving Atera lead to inject a possible alternate theory.

"It did not make sense to me either at first. But I tried to warn Alex of the dangers of letting them off on the unlawful physical conduct charges. I told him it would be a big mistake to go through with this new reformation project you two proposed. I knew it would lead to no good. I just could not fathom the depths of depravity their disease had on their minds, manifesting and breeding a self-hatred for their unnatural sexual behavior. Inherent in their subconscious psyche, they must know what they are doing is wrong, but cannot fight the urge. They feel they should be punished for the aberrant act, and by removing the guilt factor and condoning their abnormal predilections, they strike out at those advocating their way of life as being an acceptable alternative."

Atera put forth a credibly convincing argument, which easily could have been one Jacob might have promoted himself with almost as much verve at one time.

"I guess anything is possible when it comes to the inner workings behind the mysteries of the human mind. As soon as I have incontrovertible proof of their guilt, I can use it to lessen the shocking news about the GAC when breaking the story to the public. If permitted, I will make another announcement. One I think you will agree is a good idea, live coverage of the trial to avoid any public backlash. By making a media circus out of the whole fiasco, people will be too distracted to be angry. I just hope the doctors can find a cure by then, having the GAC available to judge the trial would be a real morale booster. Something the people could rally behind."

"Jacob, I do not know what to say or how to thank you for being so gracious in repudiating past beliefs after learning the awful truth about your recently misguided reasoning. I too have complete faith Dr. Penelope will find a cure with all of his diagnostic medical expertise at his disposal."

"Michael said when he was imprisoned in his coma he had to use every fiber of his being to find a way to break out of his subconsciously locked journey through the center of his mind. He said it was like being stuck in your own private Twilight Zone, whatever that means."

"Then have faith, my dear boy. If anyone can break free of whatever has a hold on him, it would be my Alex. He has always been proficient at finding his way out of dark places."

Jacob let out an unintentionally paradoxical sigh after a piously reflected observation, compelling Atera to inquire its import.

"May I ask what you find so amusing?"

"Just the odd thought passing through my mind about how in days past, this would usually be when somebody said something about praying to god for a cure."

"Yes, it is amazing how much we used to depend on religious mythology to guide and even save our lives. Thank, whoever, we no longer govern our lives that way."

"They also used to say it couldn't hurt. There is no denying the powerful healing properties a placebo can have on the mind. Maybe by believing in some deeper meaning to life, something greater than ourselves, is what initially gave us purpose. People might have had more self-worth in their lives and evolved with the changing times if they believed in themselves, instead of praying to a higher power. They should have just kept faith in knowing we all have the free will to be a source of greater good that serves the whole or else risk becoming a greater evil that indulges only the self."

2

Sitting on a park bench, eying every movement, noting every sound, and checking every shadow, the decrepit old man waited in the noonday sun looking for those with bad intent, inconspicuously feeding the ducks waddling up from a pond to get the generously offered pieces of broken bread.

The old man had been sitting there since early morning waiting to meet someone at noon. He appeared to be around seventy-five, when his actual age was twenty-five years younger. It was a normal everyday occurrence for retired citizens of New America to spend hours soaking in the fresh air and sunshine sitting in the park section of the New San Diego Recreational Park and Zoo.

Professor Maximilian Valentine, the onetime venerated lecturer of philosophy and literature, had been in hiding ever since having the blame shifted onto him for the stadium bomb blast that killed Michael's father. Not wanting to draw any undue attention his way, Max wore dated clothing to blend in with the older generation. It was easier than trying to mingle in with the campus youths where someone might recognize him from one of his lectures. To stay under the radar and off the grid in New America, the only viable places to mix in with the scenery was amongst the two different demographic age groups found where the young or old gathered and played.

Max was aware of the possibility he could end up being the scapegoat for something he didn't do. It was the cost of living under the auspices of the espionage game. Working for a cause you believed in was a risk any true spy would be willing to take. There were things in this world worth fighting for, and Max was a true believer in their cause. His only regret rose out of his forced separation from Jean. Any contact he made with her might put her in danger.

Then he came across the time sensitive information he felt imperative to pass on and determined it to be a necessary risk, thinking the valuable information essential to their cause.

There were not many safe locations where they could openly meet. Moving around in the dark of night left too many unknown contingencies to factor in, leaving the best place to hide in the plain view of daylight. There were a limited number of areas available for people to gather unnoticed without the chance of someone spotting them in a crowd. It made certain venues like sports stadiums or anyplace with video surveillance untenable rendezvous spots for clandestine meetings.

Large, outdoor, open spaces were the most conducive to the requisite needs of their surreptitious objective to remain undetected. City parks and outdoor recreational centers, marine life aquariums and wild life zoos, amusement park rides and carnival fairs, rural campgrounds and hiking trails, along with secluded lakes, ponds, and even some still accessible shoreline beaches were the safest choices and readily available in New America. Although, the logistical aspects of travelling to far off rural areas, or the noticeably conspicuous sight of old people hiking up long, arduous trails, did not fit their needs any more than youth-oriented, thrill-seeking rides, making them illogical choices for their purposeful meeting.

The New San Diego Zoo and Recreational Park offered a variety of unobtrusive, secluded areas for them to remain out in the open without attracting any prying eyes. One of the few surviving zoological habitats in the country, the zoo housed animals from every corner of the globe. It started out as an animal rescue shelter before expanding into a wild life preserve.

The trapping and holding in captivity of wild animals was not done for sport or people's amusement. They did it in a humane effort to prevent their extinction. Initiated by philanthropic, benevolent humanitarians, they cared for and nurtured many different species back from the brink of total annihilation.

As a duck waddled away with a piece of bread in its beak, another duck attempted to pluck it out. Max looked up from the scavenging beasts to reveal a true beauty standing before his eyes. Jean stood in the middle of the walkway holding a picnic basket in her hand, giving off a presence of being lost and uncertain of her destination, also showing a disassociated interest in the presumed stranger sitting on the park bench.

"Excuse me, Miss. Are you lost? Can I help you find something?" Max volunteered his assistance, pretending not to know her.

"Oh no, I have not lost my way. But you are very kind to ask. You see, the thing I was wondering is what I am going to do with this lunch I packed now that my friend called and cancelled on me at the last minute. Perhaps you would care to join me?"

"Why, thank you very much. I would be very pleased to break bread with you." Max said, getting up throwing out the last handful of bread for the ducks to squabble over.

"Here, let me take that for you." Max offered to carry the picnic basket, which was really filled with a tasty lunch.

"Thank you very much, you are a real gentleman."

"If I may be so bold, I believe I see a nice spot over there under that big tree."

Spreading out a blanket on a grassy knoll under a big willow tree, they settled down for lunch with Max slowly getting on one knee, then another, before taking a seat.

"Max, are you still playing your part or has all this been taking its toll you? Maybe we should have gotten a picnic table. Have you been getting enough to eat? You look like you lost weight, my sweet."

"Just keeping in character," Max lied, not wanting to worry her over his old bones, especially when there were other more important matters for them to discuss. "Something you should remember, we are not supposed to know each other."

"I know you still have to be careful about being arrested. But since the GAC announced the big changes in the SBP system, I doubt anyone is looking too hard for you anymore. As soon as they settle everything, I am sure Eve can get Michael and Jacob to help clear your good name."

Max slowly bowed his head with a somber sigh escaping his lips as he found it hard to dampen her good spirits by passing on the yet unreleased news to the public of the latest attempt on the life of the GAC.

"What is it, Max? What has happened now?"

"There has been another attempt on Guardian Administrator Cain's life. He is in a coma. They are accusing Warren Stacy of poisoning him with a cherry pie."

"How can this be?" Jean asked in shocked disbelief.

"That is not all. Atera has enacted Executive Special Order 228 and is now the acting Guardian Administrator. Her first official decision was to release Ricardo and promote him to Chief Magistrate. The last thing I learned before leaving to meet you was that Atera dispatched him to re-arrest Warren and Owen."

"I cannot believe this is happening all over again."

"I understand how you feel. But we need to remain strong or else risk losing everything we fought so hard for all these years. There may be a light at the end of the tunnel, yet."

Feeling the need to clarify his words, Max continued. "It is why I needed to see you today. You have to get word to Eve telling Michael to find a way to get to this address in Old California."

While no one was around them for as far as the eye could see, Max cautiously slipped her a small note with the address on it. Taking the note and quickly glancing at the address, Jean folded it back up and tucked the note under her bra. Paranoid to write it down and carry it on him out of fear of losing or getting caught with it, Max felt relief in passing it on, but still warned Jean to proceed with caution.

"While I am positive your excellent choice for its safekeeping is absolutely secure, I would prefer you just memorized it."

"Don't worry, I will," Jean promised him with her cheeks blushing rosy red. "But I do not get it. Whose address is it?"

"I am not quite sure, but it just might be the last known address of The Author." Max said, reflexively causing her to hold her hand over her breast with the hidden treasure concealed under it.

"I do not know where you get your information. But keep it flowing, if you can."

3

At the sight of his high-ranking Magistrate uniform, Ricardo passed right through the front gate security and headed up the driveway at an accelerated pace. Parking directly in front of the mansion, he hurried inside and down the hallway to where Dawson and Harvey stood watch by the closed office door.

"I need to see Atera, right away." Ricardo said, barking his command at Dawson in a strong authoritative voice, trying to conceal his nervously stressful apprehension over how the news he brought might cause others to react.

"Yes, Chief Magistrate Danielle. Let me just announce your arrival. Atera is in a meeting with Mr. Rose going over the press release on Guardian Administrator Cain's condition."

"That is exactly what I need to talk with her about."

Sensing he did not want to say anything in front of Harvey, Dawson knocked on the door and opened it far enough to call out to Atera.

"Mistress Cain, I have Chief Magistrate Danielle here to see you on an urgent matter."

"Send him in."

Dawson opened the door the rest of the way as Ricardo walked right in, followed by Harvey and himself. Noting Atera's look of concern after reading Ricardo's face the moment he walked in, Dawson remained inside with an alerted presence.

Harvey could also sense the rising stress level in the room.

Thrown off by Ricardo's uniform, Jacob was the only one not alerted by the foretelling harbinger of bad news. Without given voice to his, the similar thought Owen vocally expressed also ran through Jacob's mind about Ricardo's ridiculous uniform.

Ricardo stood a few feet in from the doorway seeming hesitant to give his report, realizing Jacob's presence could escalate an already volatile situation. Desperate for revenge on the man who tried to ruin his life, he knew a violent confrontation would serve no good purpose for anyone at this point in time, however unavoidable the prospect seemed in the near future. Looking over to Atera for an acknowledging confirmation of approval to proceed, Ricardo received the necessary opening response he required.

Leaning casually back against the big desk with Jacob standing in front of her, Atera stood up and moved a couple of feet in front of Jacob, preemptively placing herself between him and Ricardo.

"Have the perpetrators of this diabolical deed been brought to justice, Chief Magistrate Danielle?"

"In a manner of speaking, that would be one way of putting it."

"Mr. Danielle, this is not the time for vague suppositions. I expect to hear a full and detailed report."

"Please, pardon my disconcerted manner. I meant no disrespect. I just been through a harrowing experience, and I am still getting my bearings about me."

"What do you mean by a harrowing experience?" Jacob asked, stepping up alongside Atera and narrowing the distance between them.

The offensive annoyance of Jacob challenging his authority agitated Ricardo into another excitable kneejerk response.

"Owen Sandy tried to kill me when I went to arrest him and Warren."

"What kind of nonsense is this? What did you do to Warren and Owen?"

Both Harvey and Dawson started strategically positioning themselves in case an altercation ensued, except not even Atera could stop this can of worms from popping open.

"Gentlemen, let's keep it civil now."

"I have Warren locked up and tightly secured."

"What do you mean tightly secured? Where is Owen? What did you do to him?"

"I did not do anything to Owen. He did it to himself when he tried to push me out a fifth floor window, but he only ended up killing himself."

Jacob did a non-reactive double take after hearing the disheartening news, unable to comprehend it at first. He started to wonder the affect it had on poor Warren, a thought he did not have to ponder long.

"Warren had to be restrained afterwards for his own safety. He completely fell apart the moment Owen took flight out the window."

Ricardo's last facetiously callus comment was all Jacob could take as he once again stepped outside his mind with his body involuntarily reacting to the inciting words.

As his right fist flew through the air, circling round and impacting into Ricardo's left cheek, it appeared to be moving in slow motion to Jacob, but to everyone else in the room—especially Ricardo—it happened within a sudden flash of real time speed. The force of the blow sent Ricardo stumbling backwards a few steps, temporarily causing him to lose his balance before regaining his stance.

Reaching over to his right side with his left hand, Ricardo pulled a pistol out from inside his jacket and whipped around with it pointed at Jacob's forehead.

Staring down the shiny gunmetal barrel, Jacob never flinched as he made his stand, not allowing his natural instinct for self-preservation to deter him from speaking out. But before his words could find an audible vocalization from the thought forming in his mind, Harvey and Dawson were also on the move. Within a split-second of Ricardo pulling his gun, Harvey drew his own weapon and had it pressed against the back of his head before Ricardo could even cock the hammer on his .38 caliber revolver.

"I would not do that if I were you," Harvey said with a deadly serious tone he kept for the rest of his menacing words. "You twitch a finger and I will blow your brains out."

"I cannot allow you to do that, Harvey." Dawson warned him while pointing his own gun at Harvey's back.

"Stop this nonsense right this second." Atera yelled out her orders. "Holster your weapon Mr. Danielle or be prepared to face the consequences of your actions."

Understanding her meaning and knowing its import, Ricardo lowered his gun and put it away. Harvey then eased back and lowered his as well, except Dawson felt the need to give comment before following suit.

"Harvey, you must be getting old, leaving your six unguarded like that." Dawson said.

"You might want to get your eyes checked out." Harvey said pointing out with a downward gaze to the long knife extending from his sleeve and held less than an inch from Dawson's crotch. "Sorry about the trajectory, I had to move rather quickly."

"What did you do, Ricardo? Threaten Owen and Warren, telling them they would never see each other again. Did you try to take away any sense of hope to force him into a corner?" Jacob demanded.

"Mr. Rose, we will not have any more unmerited accusations thrown around. I may be disappointed with Mr. Danielle's attitude, but as far as I know he acted within the bounds of his authority." Atera said diplomatically stating the facts as she knew them and gave warning against further altercations. "If I find he has overstepped his authority there will be severe penalties. And the same goes for everyone, Mr. Rose. Your friends, Michael and Eve, could still be charged with aiding and abetting, along with Hanna for the warning call she made to Warren before his first arrest."

"Atera, please accept my sincerest apologies for losing my head a moment ago. I allowed my personal feelings to overrule my better judgment. I am sure Chief Magistrate Danielle did everything he could to bring them both in unharmed." Jacob said, cautiously feeling the need to regroup with the stakes swiftly raised so drastically high.

CHAPTER FIVE

### VAINGLORIOUS BASTARD

"Revenge is a dish best served coldly well-written."

An old Tarantinoism

1

THWACK!

The smacking sound of Atera's hand slapping hard across Ricardo's face resonated with a loud whack.

"You insolent child, where do you get the temerity to incite acts of violence on these premises, on this day? Your impetuous conduct is an offense to the dignity of your high office and a personal affront to me and the Guardian Administrator."

Atera scolded him like a misbehaving adolescent. Ricardo made no attempt to defend his actions. He just stood there and took it.

Since Jacob and Harvey left, with only Dawson remaining, he put up with the berating, thinking it best to let her get it out of her system. He focused his own building rage on Jacob for sucker punching him, but still reserved some of his dark thoughts for Harvey, wondering where he got the nerve to threaten the life of the Chief Magistrate, no matter what his sworn duty bound him to do.

He would deal with them at a later time and in a proper manner. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Right now, he had to deal with what was before him as Atera's rant took a more personal turn that garnered his full attention.

"If you persist in acting like a child, and not the man I promoted, I will have to punish you like one. Or maybe I should tell you about a recent SBP match that just came in." Atera threatened before turning her attention to Dawson.

"CP Flowers could you please go check on the arrangements for Alex's care we discussed earlier? I would like to have a word with Mr. Danielle on a personal matter."

"I will see to it, and make sure everything is ready on time." Dawson said walking out of the room, while giving Ricardo a cocked eyebrow look.

Ricardo had no clue how far Atera was willing to go to keep things the way they were, or what she had already done to ensure it. With a self-satisfied smirk, he watched Dawson leave, but put on a more serious expression to face Atera as he apologetically pleaded his case for staying in her good graces.

"Atera, please accept my sincere apology for setting into motion a violent altercation in your home on this sad day. I deeply regret if my poor choice of words acted as an unintentional catalyst in provoking the physical assault on me. I prefer to settle differences of opinion by interchanging a civil dialogue through an intellectual debate, instead of the brute force of fisticuffs. Unfortunately, when words fail to win their argument, some weaker minded individuals will resort to thoughtless, barbaric actions after they have run out of anything intelligent to say. I must confess my natural instinct for self-preservation kicked in, and I overreacted. Speaking in regard to their insolence of office, they should have shown me the respect my position of authority demands."

Ricardo's rationalized words of regret sounded sincere enough. He hoped it would appease Atera. Although, if she needed more redeeming words or actions, he would readily submit to her will, providing he did not lose Samantha. Previously, he would have sacrificed anything for their likeminded cause. And even though he would never openly betray her, Ricardo started to get an eerie sense Atera was losing control of her faculties. If it should come to pass, someone would need to step up and take charge.

"I accept your apology, and I understand why you reacted the way you did. I just cannot condone it. I need to know if you are capable of handling the responsibility of carrying this heavy burden on your shoulders. I cannot afford to lose your strength. There are so few left with the fortitude I have seen you display."

Ricardo owed his loyal allegiance to Atera for everything she did for him. It began when she first confided in him a terrible fear that one of these rebel groups would rise up and destroy their perfect society one day in their fight for the right to express their perverted desires. Finding a common, philosophical bond binding them together, he told her about his suspicions of his roommate's relationship, along with a plan to root them out of the closet.

"Even my poor, dear Alex was beginning to weaken from the ill-advised counsel of others. But you possess a strong conviction he no longer defends."

Ricardo could see signs of desperation showing through the cracks of Atera's once stone hard veneer. The doubts forming in his mind had nothing to do with her desperately unhinged actions against her husband, which he was not privy to and would not have colluded in if asked. But more from a personal sense of something oddly off balance in her behavior. Ricardo began to doubt Atera's leadership abilities, very much in the same way she started to lose faith in her husband.

"You have a great potential. Something you clearly proved during the public ordeal you had to endure in defense of your beliefs and mine."

Getting drunk on his own recently acquired power, Ricardo started to feel it might be time for some younger blood to take over in order to keep alive the spirit in which the new founding fathers rebuilt the country. He believed he could do just as good a job as anyone, including the supposed heir to the Prophet Warrior wandering around out there somewhere. There were times when he thought he could be the enigmatic heir, based on his own inbred self-worth, forgetting the Prophet Warrior's most intrinsic quality was his empathetic compassion for others.

"It is the only reason I got so upset with you. I need your strength to help keep the people under control." Atera forgave and praised him at the same time, exhibiting mood swings more apropos to someone suffering from a bi-polar disorder and not someone who commanded the leadership qualities one expected from the person in charge.

Ricardo knew they could not risk losing the support of the people after the promise of great change. Before leaving, Jacob extended an olive branch peace offering. He suggested if they wanted to ensure the support of the majority, then don't punish the many for the actions of a few. Approve the proposed reformation to the SBP system, but exclude same sex matches. It was a cunning, bold move to mend broken fences while building new bridges of trust.

"You have my undying pledge of loyalty to do anything I can to preserve our great society." Ricardo vowed.

"I personally blame Jacob for leading my Alex astray, filling his head with ludicrous ideas of equality for those who would not only defy our laws, but their own biological natures. Regrettably, he serves a necessary purpose for now, which we can easily control as long as he believes no harm will come to his friends. So do not let him goad you into doing anything else to help his cause. Do not play his game."

Having less to do with misguided counsel or any personal grievances, their combined hatred of Jacob was born out of a jealous envy for his immense popularity. It was basically that simple. The people loved Jacob, and nobody liked either of them very much. Atera always came off as being aloof when in public, while Ricardo's infamy was well-documented, recent tabloid fodder, to the point where he could be the poster child of the most highly despised shyster ever to have fallen from grace due to scandalous misdeeds.

"Do not worry. He can't. He has to play by my rules now. He will do whatever I say, unless he wants to see his friends go down one by one."

"Dominos to be toppled over at the proper time," Atera said in accord.

They were having their conspiratorial conversation with Atera leaning back against the large desk in a more relaxed position since Dawson left, while Ricardo stood about five feet in front of her at a comfortably safe, non-slapping distance. Standing up straight, Atera moved over to Ricardo raising her hand up as if to slap him in the face, but instead cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand.

"You are the kind of man my son should have been. You possess the strength Alex used to pass on in his genetic code, which has weakened over the many long years, denying his son the DNA that made his predecessors such determined men of vision."

Letting her hand absently slide off his cheek, she walked away with her mind in a foggy cloud, speaking ambiguous thoughts and making vague statements about past lives.

"I can remember back to the beginning, when Alex resolutely believed in the uncompromising, fundamental plan to rebuild civilization. You should have seen him then. He knew we had to restructure society to prevent reverting back to old ways, knowing our species' propensity to destroy whatever we create."

Feeling dazed and confused from Atera's cognitive dissidence by the time he left, Ricardo had a hard time figuring out what she meant by her nonsensical references to past lives, paternal longings, and rambling rants mixed in with forgiving words of praise. He went to tell Samantha the news, not knowing if it was good or bad.

Ricardo decided to give her the good and leave out the bad and the ugly for now. He planned on keeping everyone close to him as happy as he could, while patiently waiting for the opportunity to wrest power away from those no longer in control of it.

2

Sitting on his own all by himself, parked in the driveway of their new home, Jacob had been locked in contemplative thought since arriving at his destination nearly eight minutes ago. He was unaware Hanna heard him pull up and sat pensively watching him through their living room window, while he rehearsed his lines for the scene of what he would and would not tell her.

In the meantime, GP Sally patrolled the grounds around the neighborhood, checking for any signs of surveillance, like fresh tire tracks, hidden video cameras, long range listening devices, or food scraps left on the side of the road—in days long gone by he would also have checked for discarded cigarette butts and beer cans.

Jacob stepped out of the vehicle stretching his arms out taking in a wide yawning breath of fresh air as GP Sally rounded the corner on the way back from his patrol. Jacob felt tired and downtrodden from the aftermath of the commotion triggered by the crushing news and the quarreling words of action. He already felt exhausted at one-thirty in the afternoon. And his day was just beginning.

Once inside their one-level colonial ranch house, Jacob still had not figured out how to explain the compromising deal he made without telling Hanna why he did it. By holding back facts essential to the real story, he knew it might appear like he sold out his friends, especially Warren, left to suffer through his new, more terrifying nightmare all alone.

Hanna could hear his approaching footsteps coming from the dining room hardwood floor. He found her pretending to be cleaning the countertop in the kitchen after hurrying over from the living room window. She put on a brave face as Jacob entered the kitchen, going over and embracing him with a strong, consoling hug.

"If there is anything I can do, anything you need."

"I only ask you trust me, no matter what may come."

Jacob pleaded for patience in the coming days for what he knew would be very trying times for those closest to him.

"I know your heart and mind will always be free of evil thoughts or deeds. Your fight for truth and knowledge drives your very being, making you the most righteously honest man I know or ever will."

"If you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you feel that way, I just hope you will think I am as deserving of such high praise after telling you what I just did."

"How bad is it?"

"It's not good. Alex is in a coma. Doc Penelope is baffled. Atera has assumed power and has also pardoned and promoted Ricardo to Chief Magistrate. They rearrested Warren, and Owen... poor Owen fell to his death when Ricardo tried to take him into custody. He claims Owen attacked him. I cannot be sure how much is true or fabricated lies."

Jacob immediately regretted being so direct after noticing Hanna's shocked silent response to the awful news.

"I'm sorry for being so blunt. I know it is a lot to take in all at once."

"No, it is better this way, like quickly ripping off a Band-Aid. I cannot help feeling sorry for Warren and Owen. They did not deserve this."

"No one does. I am going to call Michael and Eve, but I think it would be better to go over in person to tell them what has happened. I am sure they are already wondering what is going on after your call."

"Anxiously confused would be a better way to put it," Hanna replied before adding a forgotten message. "When I spoke with Michael before, he said Eve was going out to meet Jean, who knows someone who can shed some light on everything that's happened."

"Eve might be back by now. Go get ready, and I'll call Michael." Jacob told Hanna as she walked out of the kitchen and into the connecting dining room where Harvey diligently stood watch.

As Jacob took out his phone to call Michael, Hanna indicated to Harvey with a slight head nod and a guiding directional gaze she wanted a private word with him.

Harvey followed her out of hearing range, conflicted by what he would be willing to tell her, torn between two duties. He knew Jacob didn't want to worry her about everything that transpired at the Guardian Administrator's mansion, even though he felt she deserved to hear it and could handle it.

"Harvey, I know you have a code of honor you are bound to follow, but if you could just let me know if he is in any real danger, I would appreciate the kindness."

Harvey felt her pain and knew her concerns to be genuine. Except there was not much he could say to assuage her distraught emotional grief.

"I am sorry for your troubles, Hanna. I wish there was something positive I could tell you, but I am afraid I do not know much more than you do at the moment. The one thing you can always count on is Jacob's sharp mind and keen ability to outwit anyone he comes up against, plus he has the support of all the good people in his life."

3

Michael was just finishing up with Jacob's call when he heard the sound of the front door shutting as Eve returned from her meeting with Jean.

"Very good, we will see you in a few," Michael said into the video phone with Jacob's image vanishing as Eve entered the kitchen.

"Are Jacob and Hanna coming over?"

"They will be here in just a bit. How did your meeting with Jean go?"

Aside from telling Michael to find a reason to get to old California, Jean had another piece of sensitive information for Eve to impart. It was news that took her by surprise at first, but after careful consideration, it made perfect sense.

"I have something important to tell you before they get here."

4

CLACK! CLINK! CLANK! CLACK!

CLINK! CLANK! CLACK! CLINK!

The clashing sounds of fencing foils rang out its stinging steel song in Ricardo's ears as he entered the New Las Vegas Police Department (NLVPD) training facility. Standing back, he watched the two sword fighters parrying back and forth with whirling foils dancing to their metal tune. The fencer's were hidden behind wire mesh bibbed facemasks, their bodies protected by puncture resistant Kevlar jackets, matching their all-white outfits, which included a single white glove worn on the sword hand. Ricardo never developed the same obsession most of the country did with swordplay. He had his own specially designed combative weapon he had become proficient with to a degree where he would boldly challenge anyone with a blade, spear, or any other hand held, skilled weapon.

CLINK! CLANK! CLINK! CLACK!

CLACK! CLINK! CLANK! CLACK!

Ricardo was admiring the form of the smaller fencer, moving with the swift, fleet-footed skill of a fierce ballerina, always the aggressor, always on the attack.

Since there were very few people in the country permitted to carry or own firearms, many citizens in New America practiced some form of martial arts, hand-to-hand-combat, or skilled weapons training. Guardian Protectors (the modern day Secret Service), members of HOUSE, who served as the new NSA, military personnel in the Department of Security's armed forces division, and the Chief Magistrate were the only ones issued firearms. Without much crime to defend against, civil law enforcement officers no longer carried guns, and like the English Bobbie of old, they armed themselves with Billy club truncheons, mace spray, and modern day, high-voltage stun guns, also augmenting their protective gear with short swords, knifes, and other easily carried defensive weapons.

The Chief Magistrate was the nation's top cop. His job was to oversee every police department in the country, which handled all civilian crimes, public disturbances, and malfeasance. Carrying a gun became a mental adjustment Ricardo had to learn about the hard way after his imprudently rash incident with Jacob showed him to respect the awesome responsibility.

"A hit, a very palpable hit," the referee called out after the smaller fencer Ricardo admired scored a point with a direct thrust to the opponent's chest, sending an electronic signal to a digital scoreboard.

"A touch, I do confess," the struck fencer praised his adversary's expertise. Removing his facemask, he held his sword straight up in front of him and took a short bow. "I salute your superior ability."

Taking off the bib, the fencer revealed behind the other mask was Samantha.

"I was taught by the best," she complimented her instructor.

"Bravo. Just wonderful," Ricardo cheered with clapping hands. "Bravo."

Giving two short bows, Samantha silently excused herself, leaving the referee and her teacher to go about their business as she went over and joined Ricardo.

"You really are something special."

"Thank you, I am pretty good with a sword, too."

"So how did Chandra take the news when you told him?"

"Better than I expected. He did not say much, and I didn't pry. I could tell he knew about your promotion. He even seemed stunned to see me."

"Yeah, he is a sly, old fox. I would be more concerned about what he isn't saying, than what he did. If he mattered, that is. I will make sure he retires when he ages out, or I will stick him in a damp, dark basement to shuffle papers no one will ever read."

When she came to get him out of jail, Ricardo told her to keep her morning meeting with Chandra and to tell him that she was transferring to the staff of the new Chief Magistrate, which was just one of the perks of his promotion.

"What is wrong, Rick? You seem tense." Samantha asked wondering why he did not feel like he was on top of the world. Especially considering where he was just a few short hours ago.

"I heard about Owen. Is that what is bothering you? They said he left you no choice. That it was either you or him."

"That's not it. He decided his own fate. But Jacob Rose sucker punched me after I told him what happened, and then GP Sally pulled a gun on me, the Chief Magistrate."

"Maybe you should try to work out some of your anger."

"That is not a bad idea." Ricardo agreed as he opened up his jacket, revealing a two-foot long metal pipe concealed inside.

Taking the pipe while handing his jacket to Samantha, he walked to the center of the training room and held the pipe straight out in his hand. Pressing a biometric palm reader, the two-foot pipe shot out from both ends, extending another two feet on each side. Whirling around the specially made, lightweight, sturdy metal staff in front and behind him in a figure eight at lightning fast speeds, Ricardo came to a stop with the metal staff tucked under his arm and behind his back with his free hand extended out in front of him in Bruce Lee's famous curled fingers pose, calling out to any challengers.

5

Sitting alone in a padded cell, bound in a straitjacket, Warren Stacy had a faraway look in his eyes, indicating he might never come back from the place he regressed to in his mind.

CHAPTER SIX

### NONE OF THAT JAZZ

1

Jacob sat back in his chair experiencing a similar mental head rush of having waves of reality crashing down on him that Michael did after learning about whom Eve really was and who he really was. Only this time, the revelatory insight was a one-sided affair, with no hidden secrets revealed about Jacob's past forthcoming. In days gone by, it would be customary for someone to want or need a stiff drink of alcohol under the present circumstances. Instead, Jacob settled for a shot of espresso.

Hanna had one pre-made and waiting for him. Jacob did not have many vices, but coffee, in all its forms, was definitely one. As she set the mini-teacup down in front of him, Jacob picked it up and downed it like a shot of whiskey, holding up the empty cup for another round with the silent request well known to bartenders. Playing her part to a T, Hanna snatched the dead soldier from his hand and quickly brought in a new recruit, setting it down in front of Jacob.

Taking his time with this one, Jacob drank half of it in one gulp, savoring the rest as he gathered his thoughts, unaware he only heard two-thirds of the story. There was yet another shoe to drop from this three-legged bearer of profoundly shocking news. Simply amazed by how quickly the tangible truths you held onto in life could change so much within the span of a five-minute walk.

"Believe me, I know how you feel. It is a lot to take in," Michael empathetically sympathized with his friend.

"You can certainly say that again, oh exalted one." Jacob said in a deadpan tone, trying to downplay his shocked condition.

"Ha, ha, you are a very funny guy, Jacob, a real prince of wit." Michael said embarrassed by his swift rise in stature, sort of like finding out your best friend was royalty. "I am still me. So don't expect some big moment of brilliant wisdom coming from these lips. I generate my best material from standing on the shoulders of the great minds that came before me. I would not even believe it, if the people telling me weren't so sure. They say DNA does not lie, and a positive match was supposedly confirmed when my mother passed. It's a really lousy way to find out a truth about myself I wish I never knew."

Jacob reflected back on something they just told him about how the FWF could only test the DNA of the deceased, which made sense from their perspective. Except, one thing did not fit.

"Why did they wait so long to match you with someone? You have been eligible for over a year." Jacob asked, inadvertently giving Hanna an unrealized cue it was her turn to rock his world.

"That is actually a really interesting story." Eve began, breaking the ice for Hanna, who cleared her throat to get Jacob's attention.

"One I should probably finish telling."

The bewildered expression beaming from Jacob's eyes gave Hanna pause to reflect on a conversation she just had with Eve.

Arriving at their good friend's home, Eve diverted Hanna using the common excuse of needing a hand in the kitchen. Michael situated himself and Jacob in the dining room section with the ever-present GP Sally standing watch. In the kitchen, Eve spoke to Hanna in a hushed voice, indicating an ulterior motive for her request.

"I am sorry to have to spring this on you, Hanna, but we need to talk before getting to the reason for our purposeful gathering on this sad day."

After getting to know Eve, Hanna realized the day would come when she would feel obliged to have this (she assumed) conversation, divulging her insight and personal knowledge of who Michael was and her own delicate situation. She just figured she would be the one to initiate it. Taking note of the espresso machine setup on the countertop, prepped and ready to start forcing steam through the finely ground coffee beans, filtering out the gourmet delicacy Jacob professed a real fancy for, Hanna quickly concluded Michael must have had a part in arranging this heart to heart between the fairer sexes. She figured only Michael would be aware of Jacob's fondness for the dark brewed beverage. Eve must have come clean with him about their hidden backgrounds and true identities, giving her a better understanding of the pressing reason for this meeting of inexplicably linked friends.

"I guess you have a good idea what I want to tell you, since you have already walked in my shoes, so to speak."

"Almost walked in them, I only got the chance to get familiar with the path they were on. How did you know?"

"A very discreet and trustworthy little bird told me." Eve said, implying a comforting sense of security that she was among friends and they meant her no harm.

"I figured Michael had something he wanted to talk about, too. I knew if he ever learned the truth about himself, he would confide in Jacob one day. Although that was before I met Jacob and could not be sure how he would take it, being so close to the GAC."

"Apparently the GAC is not who we thought he was either, and we may have discovered a powerful ally at a very inopportune time."

"I do not think anyone could have planned for the series of unforeseen contingencies transpiring over the past few days."

"This is why Michael decided to tell Jacob about himself and the government conspiracy, which there seems to be more to than anyone expected. The FWF might have made a critical error in determining who their enemy is. And Jacob is the only one left with any influence to make a difference." Eve informed the-spy-like-her, before adding a conditional motivating factor for the plan to succeed. "But it can only work if he knows the whole story, Hanna."

Without needing to discuss her willing compliance, Hanna looked over and turned on the espresso machine.

"I see Michael knows what his friend will need under troubling circumstances such as this."

"Such a strange craving, I do not see how anyone can drink regular coffee. I do not even care for the smell of it brewing." Eve admitted her distaste for the once popular, hot beverage people used to wake up and face their day. "At least, the espresso machine locks in most of the aroma."

"I am not a big fan either. I prefer tea."

"Me, too, luckily Michael doesn't care for coffee. But you already know what Michael likes to eat and drink."

Hanna could not deny her extensive foreknowledge of Michael's habits and characteristic traits, making her feel like she was intruding on their relationship. Carrying around the weight of someone's personal information could be a heavy burden to bear, especially when acquiring that insight proved an unnecessary measure.

2

While waiting on the espresso, the slightest of grins seeped through Hanna's typically well-sustained façade, amused by how one reflected memory could snowball into a whole blizzard of recollections building up in her mind. She found herself ruminating about someone she had not seen in over two years, thinking back to when Norman Charlotte first approached her about becoming a spy. Of course, that was not how he put it, phrasing the offer in a way he knew would appeal to her benevolent nature, righteous sensibilities, and courageous thirst for adventure. Though, it was not the beginning of her virtuously intrepid journey weighing on her mind, but rather its unceremonious, abrupt end.

She had not seen or spoken to Norman since the day he bluntly informed her in a cold, detached manner her services would no longer be required. It was highly out of character for Norman to be so aloof. Usually an affably congenial fellow, presenting a serene disposition, he seemed to be masking a fearful, nervous apprehension under his taciturn veneer. Except, Hanna could not be sure if it had to do with the government's strong reach or uncertainty of where her loyalties lied causing his recently acquired, leery demeanor. His gloomy mood mixed in quite well with the damp, rainy day as they stood outside the memorial remembrance chamber where she annually came to pay respects to her brother, who died just before she was born.

A heavy drizzle fell down on the visiting bereaved, threatening to breakout into an all-out downpour, which Hanna wouldn't mind. She liked the feel of raindrops sprinkling on her face and trickling down her cheeks. It helped keep her mind clear of complicating distractions related to her recent decision to change her career goal when offered a worthwhile new path to follow that could lead to her true purpose in life. She believed fate had intervened.

The feel of someone's hand taping the back of her shoulder took her by surprise, not expecting to see Norman. They didn't have a scheduled meeting, and she never met anyone there. It was her private place she went to go think and kept it to herself. She did not know how Norman thought to look for her there, having never mentioned it to him. Still, she was glad to see him, until he spoke.

"The viability of your position is no longer tenable. We do not have any further need of your services. It would be wise for you to remember, while you may know about us and our plans, we know all about you, too."

The bluntly stated words sounded out in her ears, but could not penetrate the heavy thoughts inside her head. By the time Norman's words started to sink in, Hanna realized there was no forthcoming information or clarifying reason explaining why they aborted her mission. After all the time, effort, and personal sacrifice, she deserved a reasonable explanation for the abrupt change of plan.

Norman turned and walked away, ignoring her calls for him to come back.

"Norman, wait. Where are you going? Is that all you have to say to me?"

Left standing dazed and confused in the rain, Hanna could not understand what went wrong. The stark difference from the first time they met compared to the last was hard to comprehend. She could not believe how so much could change in a person's life without any warning or inkling of things to come, not once, but twice.

Hanna felt secure she was heading down the right path, believing she was where she was supposed to be, doing what needed to be done, but as it turned out, it was only the place where she needed to be on the day Norman passed by her way.

Not expecting or looking to find an answer to his new prime directive to locate a female recruit for a special project, Norman went to the zoo that day to clear his head. Spending thirty years as a Team Operations Manager (TOM) for the DOS—while working covertly for the FWF as their top mole in the department—Norman received a new assignment, given to him for his skills in recruiting field operatives. Joining the FWF at nineteen, he never cared about their cause one way or the other, but they offered him a way to be right where he wanted.

At forty-nine, the lanky, thin man with reddish brown hair and sunken eyes gave off a skeletal presence when viewed in profile. While the DOS forced its people to retire from certain occupations at fifty, the FWF could not afford to lose valuable resources, making the transition to New Recruit Appraiser (NRA) a natural fit. The risk was great, but the reward greater.

As it happened on that sunny, early-spring day, the reason he went to the zoo had nothing to do with scouting potential recruits. Norman soon found himself thinking how being lucky can be as good as being smart.

Walking by the wildlife preserve's bird and reptile habitat, an odd sight caught Norman's eye. Stopping in mid-step with a cocked eyebrow and tilted head, he took a backwards step. Looking up at a tree branch stretching out across the alligator swamp from a tree rooted on the bird sanctuary side of the pond, he found himself befuddled by the sight of a young female zookeeper nimbly tiptoeing down the branch.

Thinking she must be crazy to do what she was attempting to do, Hanna knew she could not just turn back and leave the poor duckling stuck out in the tree hollow. The young waterfowl ventured across the branch and fell in between a rock and a real hard place to be, especially with a bunch of hungry alligators alerted to the scared bird's chirps for help.

Safely making it over, Hanna squatted down in front of the frightened creature, not too scared to accept the helpful hands of a kind stranger. Realizing the hard part of the journey was just beginning, Hanna spoke to the duckling like a mother to a wandering child.

"Now what did I tell you about going walkabout? Until you get your wings, you know you need to stay grounded. So what on earth possessed you to trek all the way out here?"

While one could interpret the series of chirps as pleas of forgiveness, they were more likely impatient cries to hurry up and get me duck out of here.

Scooping up the eager duckling in the palms of her hands, Hanna slowly stood up as her passenger settled down with the warmth of her skin providing comforting new confines. While her feather friend might be able to relax, the rescue attempt was far from being over. Hanna began heading back over with her balance compromised from having to hold her hands out in front of her. With only four feet left to go, her foot came down on a knobby nock causing her to teeter dangerously close to the edge of losing her wobbly balance and falling into the alligator pit below. Her instinctive reactions kicked in as she quickly dashed the rest of the way across.

Jumping down off the tree branch, Hanna landed on solid ground with an audible thud, alerting the mother duck to start incessantly squawking. Bending over and placing the duckling down, the wayward child hurried over to its mother, happy to be safe on home soil, even if momma would not let her young one hear the end of it. Mother duck chastised her young like a parent sending a disobedient child to bed without supper, squawking and nudging her offspring all the way back to the nesting area.

"What a remarkably skillful and incredibly brave journey for such a pretty young woman to make all the way there and back again."

Slightly startled, the stranger's voice caught her by surprise, soon followed by the sound of many clapping hands. Hanna was unaware her daring good deed was being caught on tape with passerby's using their cell phones and video cameras to capture the amazing feat on film. Embarrassed by the unexpected attention, Hanna's cheeks turned a rosy red.

That was how it started for Hanna. It was how it began and ended—unexpectedly. Seeking a new beginning was something Hanna had been searching for since her distinctly purposeful birth. After learning the reason of her conception was to be a genetic match for her ill brother, who died before she was born (four weeks too late), she dedicated her life to helping others.

It led to her career path goal of being an oncologist specializing in childhood diseases.

Learning the details of her birth when only twelve, Hanna suspected it to be the reason her parents seemed to resent her. After the day at the zoo, where she was working as an intern while going to medical school, she found herself standing at one of those life changing crossroads, offered a unique opportunity to serve a higher purpose.

Hanna changed her career course to make her a better match for the unnamed heir. Norman told her the FWF would only reveal his identity if they picked her out of the possible candidates. Very supportive throughout her training, his strong recommendation convinced the FWF to select her over Eve. She remembered the day he told her and how he seemed more elated by the news than she ever did. A week before the FWF could arrange the match, someone high up in the SBP system removed her name from the database with no disqualifying reason given or match made.

It wasn't until her match with Jacob that Hanna figured out why Norman and the FWF were so paranoid of her, never knowing it was Norman who pointed the finger at Max for the stadium bombing that killed Michael's father.

3

"Let me see if I can get this all straight in my head. My best friend is actually the long lost heir of the Prophet Warrior, and his lovely, new bride is really an agent of the FWF assigned to raise the heir's offspring covertly, keeping him in the dark about who he is just because he is my friend. If that is not enough, my future wife was the original recruit selected by the FWF to match with Michael, but became a spy left out in the cold when someone very powerful withdrew her name from the SBP system. Since she was matched to me, I need only one guess to figure out who that could have been."

Taking a moment to relax, thinking he covered it all, Jacob sat back for a couple of seconds before sitting up after he remembered one more previously revealed, hidden past life.

"Oh, wait, I must not forget about my specially assigned Guardian Protector, who belongs to an ultra-secret spy organization setup and run exclusively by the GAC. Is that it? Did I leave anything out? Does that just about cover how everyone in my life is not who they appear to be or are you going to tell me that I am a direct descendant of The Author?"

Hanna noticed a slight raise in Harvey's eyebrow at the end of Jacob's last statement.

Downing the rest of his espresso, Jacob sat back and waited for someone to give him some answers.

"Would you like another cup?" Hanna asked, knowing there was more yet to come.

"I better hold up. I do not want to get too wired."

"There is one other thing we need to talk about," Michael said in a dubious manner. "It is something requiring your persuasive diplomatic skills in solving another tricky situation."

Jacob snatched up his espresso cup and held it out for Hanna to refill.

As Hanna went to replenish the soothing, hot beverage, Michael continued reiterating the information Eve passed on to him a few hours ago.

"We need to get approval for an expedition to this address located in Old California." Michael slid the piece of paper he wrote the address down on when Eve told him about it.

Hanna retuned with Jacob's espresso, setting the hot beverage down directly in front of him.

"Why? What is in Old California that is so important?"

"Not sure. It just might be the key to everything."

"How so?"

"There might be a connection between The Author and book I found." Michael said.

"What kind of connection?"

"I am not sure yet. I'm working on it though."

"Still, that is going to be a pretty tall order to fill. I am going to need more than a theory to setup an expedition, especially since we no longer have the GAC backing our play. Atera will need a good reason to support such an ambitious project at a time like this. She does not trust me as it is. We would have to find a way for her to justify allocating the resources needed, and it has to be something that benefits her as much as it does us."

"When Eve told me about the address in Old California her FWF contact gave her, it gave me an idea. It dawned on me the inescapable irony of this situation is that in the end, when it comes down to it, we are all fighting for the same thing."

"What is that?" Hanna asked.

"A Good Story," Michael said. "It is the one thing mankind has desired the most since the day we learned to talk. Nothing bonds people together more, rallies them to act, or unifies them around a cause other than a good story. It worked for the trial. We just need to do a quick rewrite."

4

With everybody gone and the house to herself, Atera walked through the empty halls from room to room, ending up in the kitchen. She gazed at the floor with a phantom image of the GAC in front of her, haunting her mind.

"This is the spot where you lay in somnolent slumber napping, trapped in your woken dream. I can still feel your presence around me and know I shall see you in my dreams tonight as clearly as I see you now, even though you were moved from here hours ago." Atera spoke her thoughts aloud, experiencing a Lady Macbeth-like mental psychosis affecting her mind.

"Oh, my sweet, love. How did this come to pass? The years have been long and hard, and I realize now how right you were back in the beginning. I just could not see then what you now no longer can. How did we end up here? Why couldn't you remain steadfast in your strong conviction? Why did you have to force my hand?"

As Atera stood there talking to the floor, Dawson walked up and stopped in the doorway. Lingering there a moment to listen, he could tell the stress was getting to her, clouding her foggy mind with a claustrophobic desperation.

"Excuse me, Mistress Cain. I have a theory on who gave Mr. Rose the video footage of Mr. Danielle framing Warren Stacy." Dawson began without much of a response from Atera, until he mentioned whom.

"I believe the only place they could have possibly accessed it is through Foster Gideon."

Dawson received her full, undivided attention at the mention of the eccentric recluse, breaking her out of her trance-like state as she became coherently alert to her surroundings.

"I cannot think of another way the defense could have gotten hold of the video surveillance of him planting evidence?"

Dawson was aware of Atera's deep-rooted fear of the strange man locked inside the Black Room. She had had all satellite surveillance and video monitoring blocked out from inside and outside the mansion. He was not trying to add to her anxiety by mentioning Gideon, but attempting to snap her back to reality, which seemed to work out as planned.

"Are you saying Jacob is part of my husband's spy network, and that is why they left court? So he could go access the video footage."

Atera recently told Dawson of the rumors about the ultra-secret spy organization created by the GAC and controlled by him alone, and their connection to Foster Gideon's Black Room and Dark Tower resources. Most of those in positions of authority, not part of the exclusive circle, thought of it as just another urban legend. The GAC would never even admit to his wife his spy network existed.

"Not Jacob. It's Harvey."

"Harvey. It finally makes sense. Alex and he have been close friends since childhood. Harvey is one of few people he would confide in, other than Doc Penelope, like their own little Musketeer trinity."

Dawson was very mindful of their close-knit group. He resented Harvey for being a part of it and not him. He never knew what bound them together. Nor did he understand the loyal devotion to their cause.

"We might be able to use this to our advantage," Dawson suggested.

Unlike Ricardo's plan to frame Jacob's friends to ruin his reputation and bring him down in the eyes of the public, which Dawson had nothing to do with; he was a willing co-conspirator in Atera's desperate plan, although given assurances no harm would come to the GAC.

The one thing Dawson and Harvey had in common, neither of them wanted to be in charge. They were not the type of men who craved power or the responsibilities it came with, except Dawson started to fear for Atera's sanity, and the growing possibility she might not be able to wake the GAC from his suspended animation. Much in the same manner in which Harvey had sworn to protect Jacob, Dawson was also bound to Atera by such an oath.

5

"You know I do not like meeting like this," the soft-spoken female voice said. "It is too risky for me."

"I thought you should see how it feels to be kept in the dark," a man said.

The two veiled figures stood in the shadows of the darkened, underground casino-parking garage exchanging preferences for clandestine rendezvous, establishing terms and setting ground rules.

"I don't know what else you want me to do. I can only report what I see and hear, unless you want me to start planting evidence, too."

"No, there won't be a need for none of that jazz. From now on, we will employ a different strategy. I want you to track the subject's movements during his off hours, whenever he is not home. I want a complete record of where he goes at night, and who he is meeting with at odd hours."

"That will be hard to pull off without attracting attention to myself. I won't be of any use to you if my cover gets blown."

"So far, you have not proven very useful at all. Someone powerful has dedicated a lot of time and resources to set you up in that neighborhood to root out the flaws in the SBP system. After revealing someone corrupted the system to match the subject with a specially pre-chosen mate, we knew where he would move to once matched to his pre-selected partner, knowing he would want to be close to his good friend. There are plenty of people who wish they had the opportunity granted to you, especially considering where you could be right now. I am starting to doubt whether you are the right person for the job. You're not even pregnant yet. How are you supposed to bond with his mate?"

"But she is not with child either."

The faceless, nameless man seemed to be motivated more out of envious jealousy than anything else.

"She will be, trust me. I know the subject well. I am starting to think you might have been taken in by living the good life. But remember, what is given, is taken away just as easily. I want to see some results soon. You better have something to tell me next time we speak, or I might have to rethink our arrangement."

After successfully instilling a real sense of fear in his confidential informant, Ricardo Danielle walked out of the shadows, leaving her with some dark thoughts to think about.

Waiting almost ten minutes before stepping out into the light, Jackie Roberts felt the cold sweat on her forehead giving her a chill throughout her entire body, generated more from fear than anything.

CHAPTER SEVEN

### A GOOD STORY

"The world breaks everyone...

But those that will not break it kills"

Ernest Hemingway

1

The world turned right along with the worm, and now everything seemed a little upside-down, perilously dangling on a hook, waiting for another big fish to swim on by and take the sumptuous bait that would only end up swallowing the hungry swimmer whole. Much had changed in New America in a short passage of time. There was an upheaval in the power structure after a public display of Atera's deteriorating mental condition gave Ricardo the opportunity to usurp power in form of a legal, modern day coup. Made possible by enacting a clause in the New Constitution, stating the Chief Magistrate of the Land would assume the power of the Guardian Administrator during times of hostile aggression threatening the security of the country from abroad or within, much in the same way the Speaker of the House would if both the President and Vice President were incapacitated and unable to perform the duties of their office.

Before losing control of her faculties, Atera made two executive decisions Ricardo was either reluctant to overrule or felt he could turn to his advantage. The first came after every medical expert Dr. Penelope called in failed to revive the GAC from his waking sleep, spurring Atera to have her subconsciously locked husband moved back to the mansion, where she would be better equipped to work on an antidote. The second was granting Jacob and Michael the necessary resources to setup an expedition to Old California.

In an effort to alleviate concerns over a panic-stricken public turning into an ungovernable society after broadcasting the special report on the medical condition of the Guardian Administrator, Jacob told Atera he could win back the people with a message of hope.

"Fear and doubt can do more harm to the public peace than outright insurrection. The shocking news about the GAC is going to cause great concern among the people, especially when we do not know what is generating his unknown affliction. We need to give the good citizens of New America something to hold onto. If I can offer them some good news to soften the unsettling blow of the bad, I can buy more time for you and Dr. Penelope to find a cure."

Atera began to regret her desperate actions, but felt it may be too late to turn the clock back one last time.

"So, you mean something other than allowing heterosexual couples the opportunity to select their own partners to run through the SBP system to see if they are compatible. You have something else in mind, I take it?" Atera asked.

"I would like your approval to allocate the resources necessary for an expedition to old California to find the last known address of The Author and possibly the answer to one of the biggest mysteries of our time."

Atera clearly understood the significance of what Jacob was proposing. It was the one thing she knew would make the people forget about other concerns. Even if Jacob came up empty, it would serve as a great distraction and give her time to work on an antidote.

Jacob arranged the meeting with Atera to discuss his proposal for the Old California expedition before his special, live report on the medical condition of the GAC. Ricardo invited himself to the meeting, but Jacob didn't mind. In fact, he was counting on it. He needed to gauge his reaction as well as Atera's for an expedition into one of the most unstable parts of the country.

"That is a very intriguing proposal, Mr. Rose. But how can you be sure the trip would be worth the risk? It is a dangerous place to travel on just a theory. Do you have any hard evidence to back up your hypothetical deductions?"

"There are never any guarantees on archeological digs. It is why we called them exploratory expeditions. You will only find the proof you seek when taking the bold chance to explore the unknown. If Michael is right, and I have never known him not to be when it comes to something of this nature, we could make a discovery on par with King Arthur's Knights fulfilling their quest to find the Holy Grail."

Jacob pitched his idea in a manner equal to that of an exceptionally shrewd salesman, highlighting pertinent prospects while brushing over any drawbacks, like making it back alive. Nobody knew who or what still dwelled beyond the border wall, and the need to explore the area had never been a pressing concern until now. Aside from its unknown inhabitants, parts of Old California existed on some hazardously shifting terrain of movable earth, perilously close to edge of breaking off and sinking into the Pacific.

"I understand the limitations and situational parameters of your proposal, but can you at least offer some insight of how your friend came up the idea. What is his thought process?"

"Honestly, Atera, it is as much of a mystery to me how he does it. He has a sixth sense for this sort of thing, an uncanny ability to be able to read between the lines and understand the true meaning of things. It gives him an insight I have never seen before. It is why I snatched him up from the intern pool the moment I realized his true talent. He is basically a human bloodhound. I mean, just look at his great escape from New York."

"You make a good point."

"I can tell you what he told me after getting the opportunity to study the book he found down there. He started noticing similarities between that writer's style and The Author's, certain phrases, contextual references, and other clues Michael would be better off explaining. He is the real expert. I just take the credit."

Jacob leaned back in his chair in front of the desk Atera was sitting behind in the Guardian Administrator's office-den waiting to see if the story he and Michael came up with to sell the trip was good enough to motivate her. After all, the purpose of any good story was to elicit emotion.

Sitting on his left, Ricardo did not show any signs of objecting, distracted by other thoughts relating to a six-month delay in making the changes to the SBP system. It was the real reason he wanted to attend the meeting. He planned on having his own private talk with Atera about prearranging a SBP match for him and Samantha, wanting her to think it came through normal channels, so she would believe they were a natural couple.

GP Sally and CP Flowers stood sentry in their normal positions, alert and ready.

"Why don't we let Chief Magistrate Danielle weigh in with his thoughts?" Atera asked looking over to Ricardo, who snapped back to the current topic and away from one he planned for at a later time.

"I can certainly recognize the merits of your request, and I believe it would be worth allocating the proper resources to ensure the best possible results." Ricardo freely gave his endorsement for the trip, much to Jacob's pleasant surprise, but added what could turn out to be a costly condition of compliance.

"But I also think it would be wise to send along a couple of HOUSE guests to prevent any misfortune from befallen your valuable asset. Michael managed to defy the odds last time, but you cannot cheat death forever. It will catch up to you."

"Believe me, it is something I have been trying to impress upon him myself for some time." Jacob said truthfully.

When he first pitched Jacob the idea of a red herring address to throw suspicious minds off the trail to prevent anyone from uncovering their true objective, Michael reminded him it is always a good idea to sprinkle in a little truth whenever you lie.

2

The night of Jacob's special live report, Michael was able to watch it from within the comfort of his home with Eve curled around him on the sofa, also having inside information preventing them from worrying about what the disturbing news reported.

Unfortunately, Warren Stacy could not say the same thing. Ricardo had a television set placed outside his cell with the volume turned up, not wanting Warren to miss a word. Hearing the sound come on with the TV, Warren raised his head from his cot enough to see the picture brighten the dark, gloomy cell. Lying prone on his cot, Warren had just about all the life sapped out of him as reflected in his disheveled appearance. Even though he had only been incarcerated a short while, his beard stubble face made him look ten years older than when he went inside. He appeared to be a man who had given up all hope, and if any still lingered, the Special News Bulletin flashing on the television screen soon took care of whatever remnants remained.

"This is a Special Live Report with Jacob Rose," the announcer stated in a serious, baritone voice as Jacob's affably benevolent image filled the screen.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and citizens of New America, this is Jacob Rose with a disturbingly tragic story to report to you, tonight. It is my sad duty to inform you, our beloved Guardian Administrator Cain V is in coma after falling victim to a treacherous act of foul play. His condition is stable, but unresponsive. Doctor Samuel Penelope believes he is under the hold of an unknown toxin in his system. He is receiving the best medical care with the finest doctors and top specialists working around the clock to find an antidote or cure." Jacob paused to clear his throat, trying not to choke on his next words.

"On a personal note, I regret having to report one of the accused perpetrators is my ex-roommate and client, Warren Stacy. Sadly, Owen Sandy fell to his death from a fifth floor window while resisting arrest. I won't confirm or deny their guilt. We still considered everyone to be innocent until proven guilty. But due to another binding commitment, I will be unavailable to represent Warren Stacy in court."

Warren sat up in bed with a growing rage rising up inside him at the mention of Owen. Jacob wasn't going defend him this time and chances were Michael would not be around to help out either. He truly was all alone now.

"In related news, Atera Cain, the wife of the GAC, invoked Special Executive Order 228 and has assumed the powers of his office. She also granted Ricardo Danielle a full pardon and promoted him to the Chief Magistrate of the Land. In light of recent events, the proposed changes to the SBP system will still take place, but will exclude same sex couple matches. These changes will go into effect on this upcoming New Constitution Day holiday. Due to the highly volatile concerns, this issue needs to be re-examined and possibly re-thought, including my own personal philosophy on the subject. Once again, this is Jacob Rose, goodnight citizens of New America. As always, we stand forever united together in everlasting peace, and our fate is what we make it."

Grinding his teeth in anger, Warren felt for the first time in his life he could kill someone. He did not target of his murderous thoughts at Jacob or Michael, knowing they were just doing what they had to do to protect their own. They both had so much more to lose now. No, Warren focused his near psychotic mind on what would be the best way to kill Ricardo, wanting him to suffer for what he did. Warren shocked himself at the different kinds of torture he would inflict if ever given the chance. In the end though, he would rather do it with his bare hands wrapped around Ricardo's neck, choking the life out of him until his very last breath, all the while telling him over and over again, 'for Owen, for Owen'.

3

The day before everything figuratively blew up all around Michael's and Eve's lives, Eve sat in the FPC waiting room locked in a contemplative meditation on the meaning of life and her reason for being here. Wondering at one of life's crossroads, where we all decide our fate, if she had chosen the right path. She always believed we had more than one purpose in life, one that served the self and one that served the whole. Eve did realize, on occasion, they could be one in the same. Although for most of us, there are two different paths from which to choose, often going in opposite directions.

Littered with potholes, speed bumps, and obstacles diverting you down different trails from the one you started on, the path to self-discovery could be a hard road to travel. Oftentimes, it led to a defining moment in our character, where we learn and grow from our mistakes. But on the road to higher purpose, one false move or one wrong turn could have severe consequences on your life and sometimes the rest of the world as well. It was quite possible a person may never know if they achieved their higher purpose or if it served a greater good or aided an ultimate evil. It was a path that could be completely invisible, even when right under your feet.

Sometimes we are the hero making the great discovery or the villain who destroyed everything. We may have only played a small, but crucial role in providing someone else with a moment of inspiration. Or you could save somebody from stepping in front of a bus, simply by being in the right place at the right moment. But if you were running late that day because you spilled your coffee and had to change your suit, you may never know if the person whose life you were supposed to save might have been the one who cured cancer, ended world hunger, or reversed the effects of global warming. Of course, it could easily work the other way, too. Because you were on time, the person whose life you saved was able to go home and kill his cheating wife, or go postal at the office, or even be a corrupt politician who went on to become the President who started WWIII.

It was kind of like the age-old question. If you could travel back in time to kill Hitler, even as a baby, would you do it? The thing people never seem to consider was it would not matter if you did. Because by traveling back in time, you changed time—the Butterfly Effect. By killing baby Hitler, you altered time, which meant someone else could fill those shoes, maybe someone who was not insane and could have won the war. But, like the plot out of some silly science fiction movie, where a guy travels back in time to save the girl who will one day be the mother of the future savior. But then it turns out, the guy sent back is really savior's father. It just doesn't make sense. Logic dictates the future he came from would no longer exist, since the guy could not possibly be the original father the first time around, because he wasn't even born yet.

These heavy thoughts filling Eve's mind had to do with the fact if we could alter our own or someone else's destiny, it proved nothing was unchangeable. Nothing was predestined in life. There were no absolutes. She found herself stuck thinking just because you were born to be someone special, like an heir to the most highly praised and revered man in recent memory, it did not mean you would grow up to be that person. Sometimes fate intervened, altered your course, and put you on a different path to another destiny. A person could end up going from being a good person to bad, or bad to good, and even good to better, or bad to worse. An excellent example would be a family dynasty of cops, but one of their son's grew up to be a master criminal in a rebellious response to his mean, wife beating, drunk of a father. Or it could work in reverse with an old organized crime family's spiteful son growing up to be a District Attorney so he could bust his father on the ultimate day of reckoning.

In the end, you can never tell if you will turn out to be Gandhi or Hitler, and sometimes you had to take it on faith you made the right choice, which was the real question plaguing Eve's mind. If she never learned the truth about her parents' would she still be sitting in the FPC waiting room twenty-six weeks pregnant with the son of the Prophet Warrior's heir growing in her belly? The voice in her head waxing philosophical may have come from her subconscious mind, but the recalled thoughts were Michael's from five months ago. A heavily guarded border wall acted as an actual and symbolic barrier dividing the old world from the new one. It also separated the young couple during those long months with over three hundred miles of landscape between them.

As if in synch with the rest of the country, the mood in the FPC waiting room was decidedly different from Eve's first visit as a SBP family member. A dark cloud seemed to be hovering over the heads of almost everyone seated in the sterile, stark white room, with a somber atmosphere permeating the air. An amalgamation of storm clouds carrying different types of inclement weather systems culminated in a perfect storm centralized over the lives of those closest to Guardian Administrator Cain. Living in the eye of the storm could conceivably be compared to residing on top of an active volcano that had lay dormant for many years, experiencing long periods of inertia before the thunderous eruption rained death and destruction down on everyone's heads.

For Eve and Hanna, it was an environment they existed within for quite some time. Never knowing when the bow was going to break.

The door leading to the examination rooms opened from the inside as Bridget exited holding her one-year-old son in her arms, followed shortly by a nurse calling in the next patients.

"Ed Kelly, Kelly Hilary, and Edward Hilary come this way, please."

Widower Ed Kelly got up carrying the surviving twin protectively cradled in his arms as Kelly lethargically moved along without having to put away any toys she was playing with because she did not take any out—unable to feel the joy of childish things since her mother had to be committed to a mental facility. The father didn't display any more emotional affect than his despondent daughter did as he still felt numb from the senseless loss, only the infant seemed unaffected, hardly ever crying.

"Hey, everybody, I'm knocked up again," Bridget informed her companions, trying to raise the spirits of her sisters in arms, or at least in wombs, spreading some good cheer after the inconsolably mournful family left the room.

Kim and Amanda were blissfully euphoric at the mention of another impending new arrival with Bridget going over and sitting down to engage in some maternal chitchat about nursing young ones and the maturity of men.

"I am so happy for you, dear." Amanda congratulated her ability on successfully reproducing another future contribution to society as she cradled her newborn son in her arms.

"Are you hoping for a girl this time?" Kim asked.

"It would be nice having a little girl to dress up in pretty things and give some balance to my Boy's club." Kim noted her desire to even the tally on the home front as her son made his position known with a wailing cry for mommy's attention and some mother's milk.

Bridget's young son took a cue from his baby buddy, crying out his desire for nourishment, too. Amanda's son was peacefully napping.

"I know what you mean. Young or old, the male gender can be very adamant when they want something, often wanting it right then and there." Bridget agreed with Kim's critique on the opposite sex as she silenced her toddler's pleas with a succulent teat.

"The only thing that matters is the health of the baby. Everything else is secondary." Kim offered a clarifying statement.

Sitting in between Hanna and Jackie with her bulging twenty-six week pregnant belly standing out, Eve felt the need to give her still barren, two friends a few words of hope.

"Don't worry, you two. Your time will come when the moment is right. At least, you will have the company of your men to warm your beds and spirits for tomorrow night's big event."

"It might not have the same fanfare as last year with everything that has happened, but the New Constitution Day celebration should still be a grand affair tomorrow night, especially for Hanna, who gets the VIP treatment this time around." Jackie said trying to sound optimistic, while her gut kept churning from the pressure to betray someone she could honestly call a good friend, not like some other backstabbing pretender she used to think of as one.

"Her man is the star of the show after all." Eve said without envy, living through it once was enough for her.

"Say, how long has Michael been out there now?" Jackie asked even though she knew the answer. "Didn't he leave the day after you learned you were pregnant?"

"It's for a worthy cause."

4

Michael was packing to leave for his trip to Old California the day Eve told him about the impending new addition to their happy family. Mostly stable at the time, Atera was convinced Jacob's proposal had merit. She believed the new information would provide the people with some closure on the long unsolved mystery, and it would help raise morale with the GAC still incapacitated.

"I am sorry about having to take off again so soon. We never had the chance to enjoy our honeymoon."

"That's okay Michael. There are more important things than honeymoons, especially now we have so much more at stake than ever before."

Michael gave Eve a cocked-eyebrow look as she stood in the bathroom doorway with her hands placed on the sides of her still flat belly. The vanity mirror light brightly shining behind her gave off a glow that illuminated her blossoming beauty.

"You don't mean...You're not saying...I am going to be..." Michael stuttered through his words unable to form complete sentences with the dawning realization enlightening his mind, but not his tongue.

"Yes. You are going to be a father. So believe me, I know why you must do whatever is necessary to make this country a safe place to raise our son. You have to be free to be who you were born to be, so maybe one day your son can follow in his father's giant footsteps."

Caught up in a moment of realization, Michael noted how nothing could prepare someone for something you planned for once it became a reality.

"You do know it is too soon to tell if it is a boy or a girl," Michael said.

"I knew the moment you planted your seed in me. I think somehow I have always known."

"I do not want our son growing up believing he is meant to fulfill some higher purpose just because of the blood that runs through his veins. Nobody needs that kind of pressure over their heads from the day they are born. He should choose his own path and make his own destiny."

"Yes, it should and will be his choice. I do not want him forced into being someone he is not, but also I don't want him to be cheated out of his chance to be a great man."

"Oh, we will provide him with everything he needs to succeed. There is nothing worse than looking back at what could have been, if only you at least tried. Just remember, no one can be of the same mind as their ancestors, unless they are exact clone raised under similar circumstances and surroundings." Michael agreed.

"I think I would pity them if they were. Can you imagine how it would drive you insane living without the freedom to change? Just look at Jacob, who would have ever thought he would join a rebel cause."

"Yeah, just goes to show you how people can really surprise you sometimes."

5

In the month it took to setup the Old California site in Santa Cruz, Michael had the opportunity to study the strange book he found hidden down in the dark, intentionally preserved for future generations to find one day. But it was not until after watching Atera losing it on National television during the New Constitution Day special, Michael had the most prophetic dream of his life, when he could finally see after dark where the path to true enlightenment lay hidden. A surreal fantasy, it sent an urgent alarm to his subconscious mind, giving him the clarity he needed as the book's title proved prophetically revealing.

The dream started the same as it always did for as long as he could remember dreaming. It was a reoccurring, hallucinatory mind-trip he never fully comprehended until that night. He could tell right off if it was a dream. His subconscious mind would find ways to clue him in on if what he was experiencing was real or not. A discontinuity in logic with color schemes out of place of their natural order, or places in different settings then there actual location, continually let him know what was live and what was Memorex. Providing him with a subliminal path to follow, Michael never clearly understood the dream, figuring his cerebrally prescient message would make sense one day.

The thematic elements of his dream world were always the same, except the locations changed most every time. The dreams were intermittent, and he never knew when he would have one, but they were the only dreams he remembered. They normally began with him heading out on a journey in search of something lost and forgotten, some important mystery he needed to solve to give his own life meaning. It led to him becoming a researcher.

The only other consistency in his hallucinatory slumber was the mysterious figure he came to think of as his mentor-spirit guide. He had been searching for a mentoring father figure since his own biological donor gave up on him at an early age, just because he wasn't like him. Until then though, Michael relied on guidance from nighttime visions, courtesy of sandman visits.

In the dream, he could hear music playing in the background like a film score helping guide him through his subconscious vision. At first, he could not tell if the thunderous sky was coming from a storm or part of the familiar soundtrack. Moving along to a piano melody with lightning strikes hitting off in the distance, the skies opened up in a heavy downpour. Michael was not afraid of the lightning hitting him or felt a need to get out of the rain. He found himself standing in front of an old, rickety rope bridge with wooden slats laid flat to travel over it.

Dressed in his expedition gear, including his Go-Bag and hat, Michael turned and looked behind him at the old Willy's Jeep parked in front of the bridge. Shaking his head at the thought of having to try and drive over it, he looked back at the bridge where a horse now stood in front of it, saddled up and ready to go.

Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Michael jumped on its back and proceeded to ride across the wobbly bridge on a windy and stormy night with the thunder and lightning howling and flashing. He never rode a horse in real life. But in his dream, he took to it like an old western gunslinger running from the law.

A near misstep panicked the large beast, sending it into a full gallop as a wooden slat cracked in two and broke away under its hoof. Michael made it safely to the other side of the swinging in the wind, decrepit rope bridge, where the trail ended. He gazed out at a dusty, old ghost town that was once San Jose, California. One, rolling-along, solitary tumbleweed blew across the main road leading into town as the rain stopped. The sun started rising off in the horizon to shine a morning light on the long dead town.

The background music ended with the rain as Michael rode into town, now drawn in by the faint sound of an organ playing a different tune coming from a church located at the end of the road. Its alluring siren melody sounded like it was coming from a large pipe organ mixing in with a piano, drums, violins, chimes, synthesizers, a bass, and electric guitars. It grew louder with a powerfully commanding beat the closer he got to the church.

The timeworn, decrepit buildings in town were late 20th century businesses and residences, along with the decaying, rusted out vehicles lining both sides of the street. As Michael passed by the relic structures at a slow, steady pace, a powerful vocal harmony began accompanying the music, belting out familiar words he knew he never heard before.

The lyrics sang about _a man_ _who knew more than you or me, living alone with his vision, not looking fortune or fame. Lost in the deepest enigma, he was off on another plane, searching for the nature of what we are. Some thought he could see into the future with a glimpse of the master plan. But nobody understood him, because the words he said were a mystery, no one was sure he was sane. There was something he never told us that died when he went away, and now there is no telling what he might have said. But he knew._

Riding up and stopping in front of the church, Michael dismounted his gift horse, leaving the reins hanging loose with no hitching post to tie off to or concern over whether the untethered animal would still be there if needed again. Walking up the wooden steps to the large double doors, he shoved them open like an old western gunslinger entering a saloon. The old doors swung inward, creaking loudly on rusty hinges echoing out in the church's big worshipping hall.

Michael looked down the center aisle past the dusty, empty pews and up to the altar, where a large crucifix hung high from the ceiling, suspended by worn wire cables. Built into the wall behind the altar, the huge pipe organ appeared brand new with a high shine coming off the polished brass. A solitary figure sat at the organ with his back to Michael. He wore a long, black leather coat with a rustic brown Stetson resting on his head as he finished playing the insightfully entrancing song.

Even though he could not see his face, Michael recognized the man as his mentor-spirit guide, who he had never clearly seen before. As he got closer to the man sitting at the organ, Michael noticed something strangely out of place. It was one of those odd continuity errors clueing him in on it being a dream. Instead of traditional black and white piano keys, a typewriter keyboard set in place of the missing ivories.

"I see you have found your way back to me again. You must need my help to find something lost and forgotten," the man said.

"I am here seeking your wise and valuable guidance, but there is much more at stake here than my career."

"Our time together has never been about your career. It has always been about one thing. This moment, right here and now, when you realize you never needed my help. It has always been all about you, Michael."

"I don't get it. What do you mean about me?"

Michael noticed something that wasn't there before. The sheet music transformed into the two books most on his mind of late. The one he found where the title, _When You See After Dark,_ accurately suggested its location, with the other one being the most important book ever written, at least in its present day incarnation, as its title, _The Book of Tomorrows_ , prophetically stated.

In a moment of clarity, a stunning realization blew Michael's wandering mind as it dawned on him both books were written by the same person sitting in front of him, who was none other than The Author. Up until now, he suspected his mentor-spirit guide was actually the Prophet Warrior. He never considered it could be the enigmatic Author.

For years, many people thought The Author was a highly educated member of Mensa with a bunch of letters after his name. When in real life, the anonymously infamous writer was really just an Italian-Irish ex-construction worker from New Jersey, who moved out to California at the turn of the century to chase down his dreams of being the next big thing in Hollywood. Michael would soon find incontrovertible proof of this from The Author's own lips.

A strong breeze blew through the church, coming from the open front doors. It turned the pages on both of the books, and when the blustery air had passed through, the book Michael found was blown open to Chapter Six.

The Author got up from the piano bench and held out a guiding hand to his visiting truth seeker, obviously wanting him to step up to see the written words on the page.

"Welcome back, my friend, to the show that never ends." The Author invited Michael to become part of the night's entertainment. "So glad you could attend, I have some things for you to see. It's a specialty that will bring you right back to reality."

Stepping by the altar and stopping in front of the organ, Michael reached out and picked up the copy of _When You See After Dark_ , letting out a slight, sighing laugh at the words printed in bold letters standing out on the page. The two little words combined to make one powerfully potent statement— **WORDS-KILL**.

"What are words but merely letters following each other in long and short distances of space?" Michael read aloud. "They are the most powerful weapon ever conceived or created. But they are also the most easily disarmed, by simply not reacting to the harsh words of others and only direct action against you."

They were words Michael could truly comprehend the meaning of as if he had written them himself. Closing the book, he flipped it over to check out the author's photo, worn away on his found copy. Looking up from the photo to the man standing in front of him, they were one in the same. Michael James Carducci was The Author.

"So now that you can finally see after dark what lies hidden below, where will you now go to find what you seek? How far will you travel? What will you sacrifice to achieve it?"

Looking over to where The Author was standing, Michael could see an open trapdoor in the floor, leading down to another dark place where secrets lay hidden.

"Once more onto the breach, my good friend," Michael said, quoting his favorite author. Well, second favorite.

Walking over to the open trapdoor, Michael had a chill of déjà vu run down his spine as he descended the staircase leading down to another dark hole beneath the earth.

6

Making his way back out from the pit of darkness, carefully climbing the decayed and rotted staircase, cautiously testing the durability of each step taken before placing his weight down on the weakened structure, Michael came up with another unearthed treasure to help shine a clear light on a new day. With only a couple of hours to go before sunrise, he needed to make his way back undetected before the morning light exposed his midnight excursion over the hill.

While this trip took place in the real world, his procured guidance resonated from the journey he took to the center of his mind. The Author's words played over in his head like a skipping album, repeating the same four words, "What lies hidden below." From the inference, Michael came to a logical conclusion he might have overlooked, since most California homes did not have basements. Luckily for Michael, paranoid doomsday fanatics, who built bomb shelters and safe-rooms to stockpile supplies with extensive shelf-life for when the day of reckoning finally came, were found all over the country, even in sunny California.

After stumbling upon another hole in the ground, while also avoiding another long fall, Michael made an incredible, unanticipated discovery he never thought possible. In tripping over the basement root cellar converted into a safe-room, the intrepid adventurer uncovered The Author's—a.k.a. Michael James Carducci's—burial site. The place where the legendary writer Michael shared his first name with remains lay hidden in the dirt was not just the final resting place of The Author, but the inner working of his mind as well.

He could not wait to tell Jacob about his latest discovery, and how The Author may not have been the popular, well-respected man everyone listened to, which wasn't even the most groundbreaking news he unearthed that day in the early morning hours. Michael found himself faced with a real Catch-22-type dilemma, clearly realizing how it was a good idea to be careful what you wished for, because you just might get it. He uncovered one of the most extraordinarily significant finds ever dug out of the earth. The news of which could have enormously negative consequences, oddly reminding him of an old, unearthed episode from the Twilight Zone TV series he found, where an alien race landed on earth, cured all disease, ended world hunger, and brought about world peace using their gracious gift of scientific knowledge and superior intellect. Then they ate us. It's a cookbook, dummy.

7

"So was it as bad as it looked on television?

"Worse."

"How bad do you think it is going to get?"

"I'm not sure. I would imagine pretty bad. There won't be any way we can legally stop him. He is sitting in the catbird seat now."

"We are going to have to move quickly to avoid being snared in one of his mousetraps. If we cannot stay two steps ahead, we will end up falling three steps behind."

"I know, but it is not going to be easy."

"Nothing truly worth it ever is."

Looking out at the ocean standing under a moonlight sky on the displaced and expanded shoreline of Santa Cruz, California, Michael and Jacob tried to figure out their next move with the unsettling news recently witnessed by the whole country complicating an already difficult situation. Jacob had just gotten back from doing his annual live television special for the New Constitution Day, confirming the disturbing development to Michael, who had some interesting news of his own to report. First, they needed to find a secluded location to avoid unwanted eavesdroppers listening for sensitive information to report back to their superiors. The relocated beach seemed like the ideal place to talk, which now came all the way up to Soquel Avenue, where the expedition site was setup to dig out the buried address of the author of the book Michael found, but not the address they came to find.

The real site was located in San Jose, thirty miles away from where they setup base camp in what was left of Santa Cruz, California. After arriving at the bogus location, Jacob realized getting to the real site would prove to be a tricky feat. Michael had to ditch his HOUSE escorts before attempting the hazardous journey with no easy, safe means of getting there. The earthquake ravaged mountain pass, once known as Route 17, was a very dangerous road to travel in its heyday, with its many sharp hairpin turns, rising, steep hills, and long winding curves. Shut down for over a month after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, which measured 6.9 on the Richter scale, the hazardous highway was perpetually under constant construction and had always been a hard road to travel. In its present, obstacle strewed condition, the only way to transverse the old Audubon-type highway was by motorcycle or on horseback.

Ricardo immediately started throwing around the weight his new authority granted him in accordance with Special Executive Order 228-A. It allowed him to implement whatever changes he deemed necessary in the name of national security. He invoked martial law, enforced a ten o'clock curfew every evening, and started conducting Clean Sweep Search and Seizures of suspected FWF members' homes and meeting places. He ran raids on alleged sex houses and prayer worship sanctuaries as he turned up the heat to stomp out any resistance to his new laws. As for the AFW, they just seemed to vanish as if they never existed once he assumed power.

There were still many different faiths that practiced their respective religious ceremonies in secret as one denomination. Comprised of many different belief systems, they still disputed who worshipped the one true god, but through intellectual debates rather than mindless acts of violence. The sex houses were an urban legend Ricardo exploited to his advantage. Nothing like he described to his underlings existed or ever known to have.

After securing a safe viewing place to watch their extraordinary discovery unencumbered by prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, Michael and Jacob sat there speechlessly held in a trance as they listened to The Author speak.

"Don't waste precious time with blind faith in religious dogma. And follow your God Part to your fateful destiny instead. Do not question if yours is the one true faith. But ask, what is your fate? What is your purpose? Why are you here?"

The country's number one celebrity and his top researcher spent years searching for clues about the man who wrote the monumentally important work of literature used to help rebuild a new, superior world from the ruins of the old. And now they were sitting there as the image of the cryptic author of The Book of Tomorrows appeared on the small video monitor of Jacob's phone in a truly surreal downloaded moment of mindboggling reality.

"Don't deceive yourself with spiritual beliefs thousands of years old. And find faith in knowing we all have a divine fate, a purpose for being, a God Part living inside each and every one of us. Born with an inherent knowledge of Good and Evil, we are equally capable of both. Originating in our genetic code, this divine gift is what separates us from the beasts that sleep and feed, instilling in us the belief that man was created in the image a higher power—a God to rule and watch over us. But it is really just evidence of our God Part ingrained in our DNA. God exists inside of us, and it is up to each individual to decide his or her own fate. Nothing in life is predestined, except its eventual end."

As so often with the absent-minded professor forever looking for his glasses resting on top of his head, Michael also failed to notice the obvious. Conversely, Jacob appeared caught up watching a tennis match, diverting his attention back and forth with an astonished look of incredulity at the uncanny resemblance between the dusty, old, rustic-brown Stetson on Michael's head and the one resting on The Author's head in the video.

"Nah, it can't possibly be the same one," Jacob said.

"Huh, what's that?" Michael muttered through his confused reply, not distracted enough to turn his attention away from the video.

"Never mind, it's nothing."

As Michael listened to his idol speak, he was too enthralled to notice the little things, like the hat The Author wore, or the way the video cast his face in a constant Colonel Kurtz shadow, accented by his long black leather coat.

"Always believing I was meant for something more, the first time I gave some serious thought to my reason for being, feeling wayward and lost, living a wasted life, I experienced an epiphany of purpose. I took great comfort in knowing I did not veer too far from the fateful path my God Part had inherently set me on, and I finally understood my place in this world. Why, I am here, what my fateful destiny was, my purpose for being. The answer was one I subconsciously always knew. I was born to tell a Good Story."

At the end of The Author's last sentence, Michael and Jacob turned away from the video in silent, shocked acknowledgement of the stunning philosophical similarities between their previously spoken words and the time-captured recorded words of wisdom they were presently viewing. In a moment of subconscious mental telepathy, the two young men sitting in the dark watching the never before seen, extremely rare footage of someone everyone knew of, but no one had ever even seen a picture of, had the same unspoken thought simultaneously running through their heads. 'We really are all connected.'

Not wanting to stop the video to give commentary, they continued watching and saved their critiques for after the show. They knew there would be much more to talk about than their precious find. Ricardo was already on a tear back home, and if he got his hands on the video, it could end up making matters much worse.

"Only after leaving behind the trappings of conventional wisdoms found in traditional belief systems on how to live, I could finally clear my mind and learn to think for myself. I started asking questions about the origins of life, wondering how mankind evolved from the primordial slime that crawled out of the oceans around a billion years ago, and I found answers conflicting with the religious faith I was born and raised on. I began to see how these and many other spiritual beliefs were in direct contrast with the science of logic and reason."

The mysterious Author paused for a contemplative breath.

"The real hypocrisy of truth is simply this. Most human history is a lie agreed upon, except it does not matter if it is all based on lies, no matter how fuzzy the math it took to get there. Because the one thing we love more than anything in life is A Good Story. And miraculous tales about a God or Gods are tailor-made from the stuff of good stories, especially with a species obsessed with 'what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.' I just prefer stories that make a little more sense and have some semblance of logic, along with a plausible credibility of events, mixed in with a thrilling, edge-of-your-seat entertainment that hopefully enlightens the mind as well as entertains the body. I have often found the best stories are the ones containing some moral life lesson—showing how it is better to spend your time doing something that serves the whole as well as the self, instead of just trying to gain as much as you possibly can because someone once told you whoever dies with the most toys wins. That is just another lie. Because in the end, we are all the same, and you really can't take it with you."

With another contemplative pause, the veiled in shadows Author let out an ironic snorting sigh before giving his final words.

"I am an Italian-Irish ex-construction worker from New Jersey, born and raised under the Catholic religion. Spending most of my youth growing up in a small town in the Garden State, I had a resolutely insatiable thirst for knowledge at young age. I developed a love of the written word so strong it became the essence of my very being, and all that I am or ever want to be. Well over fifty, I now realize a rather sad reality that won't affect me, since I will be long gone by then, but it is my heartfelt belief that if we don't start living smart, we are all going to die stupid. But, the one way to prevent the inevitable from happening is by simply remembering to never be ashamed of what you don't know, only what you refuse to learn."

Staring blank-faced at the monitor screen on Jacob's phone, they were both at a loss for words as The Author's image faded away. Leaving the video playing like a finished record still spinning on the turntable, Jacob felt paralyzed by the words he just heard, and along with Michael, had to take a minute or two to let their meaning sink into their blown minds. But much to their surprise, their viewing experience was not over yet.

"What the...." Jacob commented as another face appeared on the screen.

Michael instantly shared Jacob's shocked reaction as the face appearing on the small screen belonged to another famous person from history, just not from the same time period, which was not even the truly odd thing. The person on screen was a well-recognized figure dating back to the very foundations of New America's history. Known by many as the Good Doctor, Marc Quincy, M.D. would be the third acknowledged architect in the rebuilding of the country, if properly accredited in its history.

According to new history books, he was the personal physician of General Alexander Cain, who betrayed the general by starting the Free Will Forever rebellion after the mysterious death of the Prophet Warrior. He fled the country with an alleged original copy of the New Constitution. There were some who blamed the Good Doctor for not only the death of the Prophet Warrior, but also his nine-month pregnant wife, too. They accused him of manipulating her emotionally distraught and highly vulnerable state of mind. Some said he filled the grieving window's head with conspiracy tales about plots to destroy everything her extremely wise husband helped to rebuild, which led to her irrational attempt to preserve his legacy in a desperate decision to sacrifice her own life after secretly giving birth to a son.

Thus began the legend of the Prophet Warrior's heir, orphaned at birth, growing up never knowing his true birthright. But just the rumor of his existence, like many legendary heroes who defended the oppressed and downtrodden by fighting for truth and justice, was enough to strike fear in the hearts of those who would take part in the evil that men do, and women, too.

8

Eve flew in low over the Mojave Desert in the small twin engine Cessna with Hanna occupying the co-pilot's seat. They were attempting to remain off the watchful eye of anyone's radar, keeping out of sight and out of mind. Not wanting to attract attention to their solo flight, they couldn't afford any slipups that would give their adversaries an opportunity to exploit.

In order to transport their precious cargo safely to where needed most, Eve took the scenic route in order to reach their destination mostly undetected. Coming in from down by Bakersfield, crossing Route 5 after successfully navigating her way over Death Valley, Eve turned north and headed up the coastline using the Sierra Nevada mountain range as a radar blocker. It was not long before she made a safe landing at an inconspicuous, little airport in the border town of Tracy, California, just one-hundred-thirty miles from the Sierra National Forest and Yosemite National Park, where they were supposedly going on a double honeymoon vacation.

With Eve on maternity leave, Hanna arranged for some vacation time for herself so they could fly out to meet up with Michael and Jacob for the honeymoon neither couple ever had. At least that was the reason she put down on the request form. Her job at the Department of Allocations helped serve more than one purpose by working there. Always good with numbers, it was not the career she would have chosen if she never joined the FWF, and while her work no longer had any official link to the rebel group's original purpose for her employment, it did proved to be a very fortuitous decision away.

Hanna's job working at the DOA was not just to provide a good cover to be a better match to Michael. As part of her covert duties, she would have been providing FWF members with approved Allocards, permitting them move freely around the country. She would have done this without the direct knowledge of those receiving her help. Nor would those getting it have any idea of where their good fortune came from or who provided it.

Manipulating the process wasn't too hard if you knew the ins and outs of the system. It was something else the FWF trained her for in preparation for her match to Michael. The rebel group infiltrated the SBP system almost from the moment of its inception, knowing it would be the only real way they could fight back. If they did not have people planted in certain departments of government, the rebel cause probably would have died off a long time ago. It was how they survived.

Just before leaving for Old California, Jacob and Hanna had the small, quiet wedding service Michael and Eve originally planned. Hanna didn't mind and actually preferred it, not wanting to feel the pressure Eve had weighing down on her. While her concerns were not the same as Eve's at the time, she did find herself suffering from a dreadful fear of being unable to have children, which she could not understand why. She passed every FPC test, and according to their findings, she and Jacob were fertile and very much capable of conceiving a child. It did not make sense that the FWF, SBP, FPC, and the GAC were all wrong about her.

Long before confessing to Jacob, they talked about having children, and much to her wonderful delight, he wanted two children, too. A boy and a girl, the equally shared gender preference she did. If only fate would be kind enough to shine the beautiful light of life down on them, she felt they would really have a future worth fighting for, along with a strong motivating force to see it accomplished.

Although under their present, uncertain circumstances, Hanna could not be sure if she wasn't better off not being pregnant. She could only imagine the pressure Eve felt. The stress could not be good for the health of the mother or child, and now she had to fly around the country in her condition. What would happen if they failed? Or worse yet, were found out and caught.

After witnessing Atera's public breakdown firsthand, Hanna knew things would go from bad to worse. Most people in the country were well aware of the great stress Atera was under, but her nonsensical ramblings on stage gave no indication as to how relevant her words were to the Guardian Administrator's condition. Hanna never fathomed how deeply guilt could work on someone's conscience, making the enemy within much more dangerous than the one without.

9

"Australia! You will never get approval to allocate the resources for an expedition all the way down under, Jacob. Even if the GAC was well again and back in office, you still could not get it approved." Hanna questioned their impossible, new mission objective (should they decide to accept it) after watching the complete video Michael found.

"She is right, you know. It would be a fool's errand, with little chance of success. You don't even know what you would find if and when you got there. It has been such a longtime since anybody has had contact with anyone who might still be living there." Eve agreed with Hanna's assessment of the proposed trip into newly uncharted territory. "Even if you managed to safely get there, found what you were looking for, and were able to leave the same way, they will never let you back in this country."

"No one said it was going to be easy, but it has to be done." Michael avowed with a firm declaration, almost suggesting he would swim there and back again, if the only way.

"Michael's right." Jacob confirmed the need to go. "We cannot present Michael's latest discovery without causing more harm than good. People only want to hear news when it is good, something that affects their lives in a positive way. Most other times, they rather remain ignorant of terrible truths."

"The last thing people want to know is the truth about their heroes. They allow us to believe in miracles. It is what gives people hope and confidence there is someone out there to watch over them in times of need. So when legend becomes more famous than fact, we tend to print the legend." Michael offered a poignant, cinematic philosophy on the subject of hero worship.

Michael, Eve, Hanna, and Jacob discussed the tricky situation while getting ready to leave the Tracy airport motel and head out on their honeymoon vacation weekend. They were going sightseeing at Yosemite National Park to take in the natural beauty tourists have been appreciating for years. Strangely enough, this region of environmental wilderness was one of the areas in California generally unaffected by the many hard years.

"I do not think people will take much comfort in knowing the wisdom found in The Book of Tomorrows was not only the root source used to rebuild the new world, but may have also inadvertently prompted the destruction of the old one." Jacob diplomatically pointed out after sitting in silence for most of the ride up to Yosemite with GP Sally doing the driving.

"It does not change the words he wrote. It doesn't make anything he said less true. So what if he wasn't a Rhodes Scholar. He still knew people needed to feel they served some higher purpose other than themselves in order to give their lives meaning or else risk losing yourself to the dark side of your mind." Michael defended the man everyone highly respected because of his words. Until now known only as The Author.

Driving through the Wawona Tunnel burrowing over four thousand feet through a granite mountain, the two-lane State Highway led right into the Yosemite Valley, and the most visited section of the National Park. The valley opened up revealing the path to some of the park's most popular tourist attractions, such as the U-shaped Bridalveil Fall perched in the hanging valley; the groves of Giant Sequoia; El Capitan, a three thousand foot vertical rock cliff located on the north side of the valley; along with many other rock formation, waterfalls, glaciers, and granite domes. Remarkably well preserved from the years of decay and earthquake damage the rest of the state suffered.

Many famous cities along the coast were reduced to rubble from earthquakes and flood damage, especially the red herring expedition site of Santa Cruz, which experienced extreme beach front flooding to the point where the boardwalk and wharf were submerged under twenty feet of water. Only the top of the once famous Ferris-Wheel stuck out of the water flowing up to where Broadway and Laurel Street met the San Lorenzo River, which was now part of the Pacific Ocean.

Fortunately, Yosemite remained the perfect place for young couples to go on honeymoon vacations as their trip served a distinctly different purpose.

"This is why now more than ever we need to find the original copy of the New Constitution." Jacob insisted on their recently expedited need to solve a mystery over one hundred years old.

"Because a deranged madman may have been inspired to dispatch a great pestilence upon the land after misinterpreting The Author's poignant words, we need to explicitly demonstrate how it does not matter. We need to show how you cannot blame the source material for the terrible acts of others. Crazy people will always find a way to do crazy things. If not the book, then it would have been something else inspiring him. Madness in great ones must not unwatched go," Michael explained his philosophy, adding the clarifying quote.

"The only way to prove the negative is to clearly show how something meant for the purpose of creating tremendous good can also be the catalyst in motivating someone else to committing great evil. Just as we know how someone born from terrible tragedy can still give birth to a greater good." Jacob made the logical conclusion.

"But you have no way of knowing if the Good Doctor ever made it to Australia with the original New Constitution in the Prophet Warrior's handwriting." Hanna stated facts and obstacles in their way.

"Australia was the only nation at the time with any semblance of government or civilization to speak of, so the chances are if he safely made it anywhere, it would have been down under. He was born there after all, and a native son might be allowed back." Eve suggested the possibility of a favorable journey's end.

"Things are not getting any better back home since Ricardo took power." Hanna informed them of woeful news from the home front. "He is on a crusade to eradicate the FWF and anyone who resists the new laws he has been enforcing. He is conducting raids and making arrests of suspected FWF members without any proof, evidence or due process, enacting laws still on the books from when New America was first resettled, back when some people reluctant to change fought back."

"He has also appointed a sadistic junkyard dog to enforce his new laws," Hanna also mentioned a looming new adversary before inquiring if GP Sally had knowledge of the man in question. "His name is Lorenzo Lacy. Are you familiar with the name, Harvey? Do you know him?"

Sitting up front in the passenger seat, Jacob took note of the muffled sigh Harvey tried to conceal at the mention of their perceived new enemy.

"What is it, Harvey?" Jacob asked, noting his Guardian Protector's reluctance to respond.

"He is the worst of the worst." GP Sally plainly stated his opinion of the man no one else knew anything about.

10

Held high in the air, the water poured freely from the large glass pitcher, flowing out at a slow and steady pace, splashing down on its intended target. It came out with a precision accuracy as the steady stream brought about the desired effect. When empty, the water bearer briefly paused to retrieve another full pitcher.

The sound of a male voice choking and gasping for breath emanated from under the drenched cloth towel placed over the unseen man's face. He was strapped down on his back to a table with its end legs propped up a foot off the floor by two small jacks set under the table legs and braced up against the crossbar. With his head jutting over the end of the pitched down table, the unknown man laid helplessly at the mercy of his silent tormentor.

The man pouring the water was not asking any questions. He was not conducting an interrogation. Instead, he just continued with his appointed duty, occasionally pausing to look over at a large, one-way mirrored window in the damp, poorly lit interrogation room before picking up a fresh pitcher from off another table with several more pitchers on it, some empty, some full. Receiving no signal for him to stop, the large, heavyset, taciturn man moved with the methodical, slow pace of a zombie Frankenstein monster, a physical trait he shared with the literary icon, also matching the characteristics of his savage personality.

He was a disgraced, sociopathic ex-member of HOUSE, busted all the way down from Gunnery Sergeant Major to buck private. His extreme training methods and the severe mental cruelty he employed on his recruits was a major contributing factor in the death of one recruit from heat exhaustion and the hospitalization of several others for similar physical injuries. GP Sally busted Lorenzo after getting wind of his antiquated, barbaric methods, eventually having him thrown out of the DOS entirely. Afterwards, Lorenzo instigated several fights with just about anyone who got in his way. One of those people was Harvey, who Lorenzo had the utmost respect for, but choose the losing battle anyway, after which he harbored only resentment toward Harvey.

A red light mounted over the large, one-way mirrored window started to flash out its glowing amber warning, telling him to cease action just a second before the water would have begun flowing out of the pitcher held two feet over the unseen man's cloth covered face. Almost reluctant to stop, the big junkyard dog of a man would never have halted until the pitcher was empty once he started pouring, even if only one drop fell. Lorenzo Lacy was not the kind of a man who stopped a job once it began.

On the other side of the one-way mirrored glass with a full view of what was taking place in the other room, Jackie's crying pleas for Ricardo to make it stop fell on unsympathetic ears that were only willing to give after receiving.

"Please, no more, Ricardo. You are going to kill him. He cannot take this. He has asthma. Why are you doing this to him? He has done nothing wrong."

"You are the one who has done nothing, given me nothing, and yet still ask for everything. Or have you forgotten begging me, promising me, you would do anything I asked if I let you remain free after proving you were a rebel spy." Ricardo threatened further retribution if she refused to be more forthcoming with some actionable information.

"But I have told you everything I know." Jackie continued pleading her case with her eyes fixed on the window. "Please, let Bill go."

The unseen man with the cloth towel still covering his face was Jackie's SBP mate, Bill Betty, who she did not have any feelings for when first matched with him, but now realized how much she really cared for him. To keep her attention focused on their conversation, Ricardo closed the window blind, blocking out her view of the other room.

"I honestly believe you are mistaken about him. He seems to be exactly who he appears to be. There is no big conspiracy going on here. His friend has been the one getting most of the attention lately."

"I know his SBP match was prearranged for him by someone outside the system. He was given special treatment, and I can think of only one reason why." Ricardo insisted on the merits of his suspicions driving him to near obsession.

"You know that is not true. I am proof of that. Your powerful friend managed to set it up, so I am sure it cannot be too hard to imagine someone loved by the people and considered deserving of special treatment might have some strings pulled by his powerful friend, who happens to be a big fan and beyond reproach." Jackie suggested a convincing alternative theory.

"I am well aware of what influential friends Jacob has and how much the people favor him. He is their poster boy, a staunch advocate for the New American way, which would also be a great cover for a spy or something more. It would explain an awful lot." Ricardo dismissed Jackie's viable explanation, adding. "If he is so special how come Hanna is not pregnant yet?"

"Neither am I. It is not from lack of trying. Believe me, if they are anything like us." Jackie offered the brief intimate observation, quickly feeling embarrassed by it, before coming back to reality.

"So you have grown to care for him. I thought you said you weren't interested in that sort of thing. It might make me trust you more, if I could believe you." Ricardo acknowledged her feelings and the possibility of her theory.

"People can change. Maybe Jacob is doing what Michael and Eve did and decided to wait until after they got married."

"What are you talking about? That can't be right, not unless. But why would she lie?" Ricardo's response seemed disjointed and out of touch.

"I don't understand." Jackie stated her confusion. "Who lied?"

"Never mind about that, I have a new task for you."

"Will you let Bill go home now?"

"No, not just yet. You need to prove to me that you are still useful. Eve and Hanna went to go meet up with Jacob and Michael for a honeymoon getaway. So nobody will be home when you go over there and search both houses tonight. Find me something I can use, and no one has to ever know about Bill's arrest. There are no reports filed or logged, nor does anyone outside this room know about his arrest. You find me something, and it can be as if none of this ever happened. After all, you don't want to sully the man's reputation."

"I'll do it on one condition."

"A condition, she is making demands now. Okay, let's hear it then."

"Promise me you will leave Bill out of this, no more torture, no more cruelty. He is a kind, sweet, and gentle man and does not deserve any of this."

"I give you my word. No one will touch him again. But you better not fail me, little darling, or you will take his place next time."

Ricardo waited a few seconds until after Jackie left the outer viewing room before pulling up the blind. What he saw on the other side sent him into immediate action.

"What the..." Ricardo expressed his shocked response as he rushed into the room.

Standing over Bill Betty attempting to administer CPR in a futile effort to revive the expire man, Lorenzo Lacy gazed up at Ricardo with a hopeless, defeated expression.

"Lorenzo, what did you do? I told you to take it easy on this one."

"Gee, I'm sorry about this, Mr. Danielle. But there is no way to take it easy when waterboarding someone." Lorenzo was completely loyal to Ricardo for rescuing him from the bowels of obscurity, wasting away his considerable talents working a grave shift as a night watchman on a site where nothing ever happened.

"Damn, you left me with one big mess to clean up." Ricardo said ignoring Lorenzo's logical excuse about not knowing a gentle way to torture someone. "Take him back to his cell, and make it look like he hanged himself."

CHAPTER EIGHT

### FULL CLOCKWORK SHINING

"How all occasions do inform against me against me and spur my dull revenge"

William Shakespeare's Hamlet

1

For years rumors abounded about a secret military base hidden out in the southern portion of Nevada, known only as Area 51. Isolated somewhere out in the Mojave Desert, it was purportedly where the legendary Roswell Aliens were housed after supposedly crash landing in the New Mexico desert. In truth, there were very few who really knew what went on down below the desert sand. Years after the fall of civilization, the true purpose of the underground lab remained hidden from those scavenging for food, water, and shelter on the surface, while they continued their scientific research down below.

Through the continuation of their ancestral line, the researchers were forever dedicated to seeing the important work being done down in the lab completed. It was a hereditary lineage dating back to when American Forces liberated Germany from Hitler's Nazi regime at the end WWII. They ferretted away their finest scientists to work for the United States government. Living in secret for years, it fell upon the great-great-grand-daughter of Germany's top genetic research scientist to preserve her ancestors' work, exhibiting a fierce devotion beyond any who came before her.

Seizing the opportunity of position, she won the heart of upstart General Alexander Cain, who rose up from a mere captain to become the undisputed leader of the abandoned government facility. The years spent living underground did not pass by without bearing the fruit of life. The son of General Cain was born to carry on his parents' desperate work of trying to prevent the extinction of mankind and to one day permanently return to the surface and build a new world. A dream that would become a reality when General Cain II aligned himself with a wandering rogue he once met as a child, but who returned a Prophet Warrior, reborn from the knowledge learned through the power of the written words he found in the pages of The Book of Tomorrows.

With the powerful directing guidance of his determined mother, General Cain II elected to revise the New Constitution the day before they were going to present it to the people, thereby signifying the official birth of a New America. The cost of his decision came at a very high price his mother more than willingly collected as the mysterious death of the Prophet Warrior paid the bill.

Over one hundred years later, the ambitious spirit of the mother of the first Guardian Administrator still lived on in the wife of the present GAC. Tragically, Atera's mental state could no longer bear the heavy burden of trying to remain faithful to her ancestor's dreams of a brave new world.

Atera moved some of her equipment from the Area 51 facility into the mansion's basement where she setup a makeshift lab. The secret underground facility was still operational and functioning with a small group of scientists, working strictly under her authority. Obsessed with fixing things, she shifted focus from trying to wake up her chemically induced husband, and she started searching for a way to reverse the genetic disorder afflicting her mentally stunted son. She locked him down in her self-contained dungeon, leaving the GAC upstairs and unattended.

While Atera's latest unhinged maneuver caused Dawson Flowers considerable concern, he felt a slight sense of relief she left the GAC in the living room, where he had been situated since being brought home from the hospital. It permitted him the opportunity to bring in Dr. Penelope to determine what the best course of action would be in finding a cure for the GAC and to help him deal with Atera's deteriorating mental condition.

Knowing he would not take too kindly to receiving orders from him, Dawson invoked Atera's name when he summoned Ricardo to the mansion for an important meeting about the current state of affairs. As it turned out, the new Chief Magistrate had some news of his own to report. Dawson preemptively waited outside for Ricardo's arrival, knowing whom he would have with him.

While Dawson and Harvey made no attempt to hide the fact they disliked each other, they did at least share a mutual respect for each other's loyal dedication and professional code of conduct. They could not say the same for Lorenzo Lacy.

"Where is Atera? What is so important to pull me away from other pressing matters?" Ricardo asked in a frustrated state, getting out of his car with Lorenzo ready to stand at his side.

"I thought it important enough for you to come see the seriousness of the situation for yourself. We can discuss it inside, but leave your dog in the yard."

Ricardo silently nodded to Lorenzo, indicating he should stay put. Remaining patient with Dawson, he replied to his demand with a clarifying statement of ownership. "He may not be housebroken yet, but his loyalty is unquestioned and beyond reproach."

"So, is mine."

Making their way to the living room adjacent to the kitchen, Dawson led Ricardo to their fallen leader.

"Atera has locked herself and her son down in the mansion basement where she has setup a fully functioning lab. Something needs to be done, and you are the presiding authority." Flowers explained his reasoning for calling, also throwing him a bone of needing his help, something Ricardo knew was a hard nut for him to have to swallow.

"Atera is a brilliant scientist, who is feeling the overbearing burden from the stress placed on her at a very difficult time. Her ways may be different from yours and mine, but she would never do anything to hurt her son. The Guardian Administrator's condition has remained stable under her care, which is more than anyone could hope for under such circumstances."

Ricardo made a perfectly logical argument that he did not believe any more than Dawson did.

Dawson wasn't buying Ricardo's lack of concern for the health and safety of Atera and her son. He knew Ricardo didn't have all the facts, but felt it would not matter if he had. He was glad to have her out of the way. No one could challenge his authority, or so he thought. Attempting to express some concern, he made an obligatory assumption.

"I take it you sent for Dr. Penelope."

"He is on his way as we speak."

"Good. When he gets here, I am sure he will provide you with better consultations on the physical and mental health of the GAC and Atera than I can." Ricardo passed the buck just as his phone started ringing in his pocket. "I am confident you and Dr. Penelope will do whatever you can for them, but I need to get going. I have a few new leads to follow up."

Dawson was going to ask him if he would try and talk to Atera—the reason he called him over in the first place—but sensed Ricardo was focusing his attention elsewhere as the called he received alerted him to some other urgent matter.

Seeing it was Samantha calling, Ricardo answered his phone with the video mode off. Holding the phone to his ear, the words he heard sent him on the move.

"She did what?" Ricardo paused a moment to listen. "Hold on. Take it easy. I am leaving right now. I will meet you there."

Heading for the door, Ricardo imparted some final words before going.

"I will leave it to you and Dr. Penelope to figure out how best to proceed. The GAC and Atera are under his care now. Do whatever he recommends. I got to go."

Dawson let him leave without further delay, not giving him any insight into the true cause of Atera's strange behavior as it related to the GAC. Ricardo was in a position to seek legal retribution on him for being an accomplice to Atera's well-intended, desperate act.

Dawson thought her plan was extreme, but agreed with the sound, principal logic behind it. Like Atera, he was a staunch loyalist. He did not believe in the cause of the FWF rebel reformists. The country they lived in was as close to perfection as humanly possible. There was no crime, hunger, oppression, financial burdens, or wars holding back the human race from evolving into the superior species we always believed ourselves to be. Dawson thought the New American society was the best we could do.

As for Guardian Administrator Cain V, Dawson would let Doc Penelope do what he could before telling him about what Atera did, which he knew to be the source of her unstable worried mind.

2

Hurrying out of the mansion and down the driveway, Ricardo offered Lorenzo no reason for their rushed exit, only giving instructions on where to go and to get there fast. On his way out, Ricardo passed Dr. Penelope as he was arriving. Ricardo took note that SI Chandra was with him, but did not slow down or stop. He instructed Lorenzo to keep going and to turn on the news.

Samantha told him about a breaking news story hitting the airwaves, media, and internet in a big way. Apparently, he underestimated Jackie's resolve to stand up for her man, someone she never cared about and only matched with as a matter of convenience. Nor did he take into consideration her SBP mate's unique, technical ability to fabricate a miniature recording device small enough to fit in a shirt button. Ricardo couldn't help thinking he should have known how resourceful she could be. It was the reason he recruited her.

When Samantha told him about her roommate's odd behavior, she arranged for them to bump into each other. From the moment Ricardo met the young, vibrant psychology major, he knew she possessed the one quality that would make her the perfect spy—a hidden dark side. There were some drawn to the espionage game by a worthy cause they would willingly die for if necessary. For others, it was the adrenaline-fueled rush of action motivating them, what gamblers called the fever. Not many knew how to embrace their dark side without having it consume them. But sometimes, it was where we found our greatest strength, propelling us forward against all odds, no matter the cost.

"Have you seen it?" Ricardo asked once on the main road. "How bad is it?"

"I've seen it. It is everywhere. But it's not as bad as you might think. She must have used a special E-bomb program file to give it mass saturation. You couldn't pull it off the net now if you tried. The news media picked up on it, and they are all over it, making it their top story." Samantha informed him from her DOS Eco-SUV as she headed over with a tactical unit to arrest Jackie, forty minutes closer to her than Ricardo was.

"She may think she is pretty smart, but I am going to show her who is smart." Ricardo vowed.

Jackie still had a few unrevealed tricks up her sleeve. She was going to show them what she was capable of when pushed to the edge. It would be something they would never forget.

3

All her life everyone always told Jackie Roberts how smart she was and how much brighter than the other girls and boys her age, and older. The thing they didn't get was she already knew. When young children were playing with toys and games, she already moved onto more mature pursuits. It was as if she bypassed the tricycle training wheels stage and leapt right into a formula one racer.

Arriving home after being forced to watch that monstrous brute torture Bill, Jackie planned to bide her time before seeking retribution She wanted to come clean with Bill, and tell him why they were persecuting him. He deserved to know the truth.

She wanted to make sure he would be safe before doing anything that could bring any more harm to him. No longer concerned for her safety, she planned on showing Ricardo how smart she really was.

In truth, she had to admit Bill was the smart one. He unwittingly provided her with the means to not only take Ricardo down, but out as well, if given the chance. She would have been content with publicly humiliating him, much in the way Jacob did in court. Until she received Bill's death notification, which came in the same cold detached manner she received her SBP notification, bluntly stating:

WE ARE SORRY TO INFORM YOU OF THE DEATH

OF YOUR SBP MATE WILLIAM J. BETTY

CAUSE OF DEATH HAS BEEN RULED A SUICIDE,

WHICH OCCURRED WHILE IN THE CUSTODY OF

THE DEPARTMENT OF SECURITY

IN ACCORDANCE WITH SBP PROTOCOLS,

SINCE YOU ARE NOT YET WITH CHILD,

YOU WILL BE PERMITTED

A MOURNING PERIOD OF TWO WEEKS

BEFORE HAVING TO VACATE THE PREMISES

AND MOVE BACK INTO

A SINGLE PERSON'S DWELLING UNIT

WE ARE SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS.

No longer bound by the need to remain patient or act cautiously, Jackie downloaded the video she filmed onto the internet. She used a program Bill wrote to make sure everyone heard it loud and clear.

After downloading it, Jackie sat back and waited for the coming storm. She was hoping it would be Ricardo who came walking through her door to arrest her, all confident and cocky, believing himself untouchable.

4

Back at the mansion, Dawson met with Dr. Penelope and SI Chandra, who the doc brought along at the special request of someone Dawson was never sure even existed.

"So the rumors are true."

"The best ones always are." Dr. Penelope said.

"Believe me. It was as much of a shock to me as I am sure it is to you." SI Chandra said.

"So the old coot is still locked away up there. I guess Atera isn't so paranoid after all." Dawson said in response to the confirmed existence of the urban legend he speculated was responsible for helping Jacob retrieve the video footage of Ricardo planting evidence. He never knew for sure if he was still up there, until now.

"Well, that is just one of the things we came here to speak with you about." Dr. Penelope told Dawson.

"But before we get into that, have you seen the news in the last couple of hours?" SI Chandra said as he inquired about current events.

"No. Why?"

"It's better if you see it for yourself. Just turn on a TV or the internet, you cannot miss it." Doc Penelope informed him how widespread the latest breaking news story was.

Standing in front of the hospital bed where the GAC laid prone, Dawson directed them to nearest information source.

"There is a TV in the kitchen."

It took less than twenty seconds to find the story on the News Media Network (NMN), and under a minute for them to air the sensational video the entire country was buzzing about within a few short hours of Jackie downloading it.

"He cannot be allowed to remain in power." Dawson said. "He must be stopped."

"I hope you will agree with our plan to do just that." Chandra said seeking approval.

"I warned Atera it would mean trouble if she let him out of the cage he was properly locked away in. Except I believe she is blinded by their like-minded philosophy."

"Everything we have in mind is legal. No one will be compromised because of it." Chandra stated the legitimacy of their plan. "But we could use your help accomplishing it."

"It would be my pleasure to do anything I can to put him back where he belongs. Too bad the video isn't conclusive. There is no audio, and Ricardo does not appear on camera. It does positively identify Lorenzo Lacy as the interrogator. Something I knew was a big mistake and would come back to bite him when Ricardo let that disgrace back in a DOS uniform."

"The video may not be a smoking gun, but it does put another round in the chamber. We just need you to help provide the killshot." SI Chandra said in detective speak.

"What my gumshoe colleague is trying to say, if we can demonstrate Atera was not mentally competent when she pardoned and promoted Ricardo to Chief Magistrate, it would also nullify any appointments or decisions she made while not in control of her faculties." Dr. Penelope informed him of the Constitutional Amendment Foster Gideon told them about.

Gideon contacted Dr. Penelope with an unprecedented task for him, to do something only the GAC had done before—recruit members for his ultra-secret spy network. He sent him two packages by special delivery service. Doc Penelope did not have to open the packages to know what they contained. Neither was for him, but he had seen packages like them before.

It didn't surprise him if Gideon was going to ask him to approach potential recruits for the clandestine work, one of them would be SI Chandra. The highly regarded inspector would be a natural fit, even if he didn't already have firsthand knowledge of the strange old man locked away in the Black Room.

"I know how loyal you are to Atera, Dawson." Dr. Penelope continued, adding a bit of incentive. "But in helping us depose Ricardo, you will provide the GAC with the medical attention he needs."

"I won't stand in your way, and I will do what I can to support you." Dawson gave his consent for them to proceed without any hindrance on his part, but without offering his full support either. He was on the fence about giving up Atera as the one who poisoned the GAC. Even though done without malice of forethought, it would surely win their case concerning her stability. Erring on the side of caution (or so he thought), he decided to try and speak with Atera before making up his mind. He owed her that much.

5

Over the past one hundred years, the existence of the Free Will Forever rebellion had been teetering on the edge of total extinction. The organization had suffered many crushing defeats over the years. Rebuilt over and over again, under the guidance of different leaders, after a while, it got so no one knew who was in charge. They operated under independent cells, each separately working toward a similar goal. After the word spread of finding the Prophet Warrior's heir, the rebel group began to reform around their united cause.

Chandra had just about given up hope of ever achieving his self-proclaimed higher destiny. Ricardo regulated him to what he felt to be the trash heap of police work, the evidence locker, and he decided to put in for retirement at the end of the month. He thought what Foster said about him still being useful were forgotten hollow words, only used to motivate him at the time. Then he received a strange call telling him to get ready for what happened next. Recognizing the voice on the other end of the phone right off, even though he heard it only once before, Chandra sat up alert and aware, snapping out of his lethargically reclined state of body and mind.

"I hope you have not become to comfortably complacent, Inspector. Your special skills are much in need. Things will be happening at an expedited rate now. You do not have time for conformity. You need to be ready." Foster's voice came through in a serious, placid tone.

"I will help out in any way I can, but I don't know how much good I can do in my present capacity."

Almost as if on cue, a priority message popped up on his computer screen notifying Chandra of his promotion to Chief Special Investigator, a position giving him carte blanche to investigate anyone or anything.

Chandra smiled at the notification with a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face as he replied to Foster with a renewed vigor.

"How can I be of service?"

6

The day Norman Charlotte came across Hanna at the zoo and decided to present her as his candidate to match with the heir, it occurred out of pure happenstance. The day he picked Samantha to be Hanna's replacement, Norman had specifically set out in search of a new candidate. If he could find another suitable match, it would have a big effect on his life, showing how he could be useful to the FWF after retiring from the DOS. If he knew the ramifications of his choice, he would have been content to remain at his boring occupation for another thirty years.

To save his own skin, Norman told Ricardo he had just joined the FWF, and this was his first assignment. So he didn't know much about the inner workings of the rebel group or any other members, except for the guy who recruited him, and gave up Max as the only FWF member he knew. Through his job at the Nation's new Capitol Building, located at the main branch office of the DOS in the District of Colorado, Norman inadvertently came across some information on Max.

Ricardo busted Norman red-handed at his second meeting with Samantha. She wore a wire and waited for Norman cooked his own goose before snatching him up. When asked about the unnamed heir, he said the FWF only revealed the heir's identity to whomever they choose as a match for him. Ricardo decided to use Norman as a confidential informant, much in the same way a narc put a low-level drug dealer back on the street to try and hook an even bigger fish. He came up with a plan that would require Atera's consent and full support to pull off, which she willingly gave.

Ricardo and Atera forged a common bond over their mutually shared hatred for the man everybody loved. Their animosity came from different perspectives, but led to the same emotional response of envious jealousy, which had never gone beyond scorn until now. After learning of the special treatment Guardian Administrator Cain was bestowing on Jacob, it became their final straw.

That is when Ricardo started to suspect Jacob might be the Prophet Warrior's heir from the way the GAC always showed him great favor. He came up with the plan to humiliate Jacob by setting up his friends as traitors, thinking his association with them would cause him to lose public support. Atera went along with his scheme, which came back to bite him from his own stubborn pride. It was only because of his utter failure Atera elected to make a desperate move of her own.

Ricardo was still in the dark about what Atera did to free him from bondage and in the process raised him up to the new exalted heights he never conceived possible. What Ricardo did not realize, it was his decision to setup Jackie to spy on Jacob that would end up blowing back in his face in the worse possible way imaginable.

7

Jackie patiently waited with the sun setting on the horizon, closing out another hectic day. She had not moved a muscle, twitched an eyebrow, or scratched an itch since downloading the torture video of Bill onto the internet. She just sat there waiting.

Waiting and thinking about who was truly responsible for the situation she was in, which included herself in the blame game, Jackie felt the deepest betrayal came from someone she once called a friend. In taking responsibility for her own actions, she decided to let the chips fall where they may, and not run away from the consequences she felt almost as deserving of as the architect behind these tragic events.

She never believed for one second Bill would take his own life, no matter what they did to him. It was not in the nature of the man she never planned on getting to know, but fell in love with away. She kept thinking about something Ricardo told her before he left the interrogation room.

"Just remember this, Jackie. There is no place you can hide I cannot find you, so don't go doing anything stupid. If you play your cards right, this might have a happy ending, and Bill will never have to know the role you played in the unfortunate events of the day. I will even make him believe it was all a case of mistaken identity."

Less than three miles away, Samantha headed over to Jackie's place with a six man HOUSE team in two DOS Eco-SUV assault vehicles. Ricardo advised her to take extra precautions. Jackie downloading the video onto the internet proved she might be unstable and capable of anything.

Ricardo was thirty-five minutes away, having to travel the greater distance after leaving the Guardian Administrator's mansion, which was a total waste of his time. He felt if he had been around, he might have been able to stop Jackie from putting out the video. All he could hope to do now was silence her before things got worse. Ricardo was upset with himself for not searching her to make sure she couldn't do what she did. After all, Bill Betty was a techno wizard, but he also turned out to be much more than that.

Arriving at Jackie's with the setting sun illuminating the house in a fiery glow, Samantha and her HOUSE team parked out on the street. Stepping out of their vehicles, the HOUSE team immediately began checking their equipment and weapons in preparation to breech the home if necessary. Samantha did not want to make a big scene, wanting to avoid any more bad press.

She decided to do it as quietly as possible, taking what she considered at the time to be a precautionary measure to avoid any potential blowback.

"Captain Calley, take your men and surround the perimeter. I will go in alone to see if I can get her to surrender peacefully. We used to be roommates. I might be able to talk some sense into her." Samantha said to the HOUSE Captain.

"Are you sure you do not want someone to go in with you, detective?" Captain Calley asked more out of concern for his reputation than her safety. He was the son of the DOS Committee Expert and wanted to impress his father with a show of bravery.

"That won't be necessary, Captain. I will be fine. I doubt she has any kind of weapon, and I do not want to spook her." Samantha said to the disappointed captain.

As the men took position around the house, Samantha received a called from Ricardo while heading up the walkway to the front door.

"I am on my way in as we speak." Samantha said using her radio headset to communicate with him.

"I'm thirty minutes out, so be careful, and keep me on the line when you go inside." Ricardo's voice sounded out in her ear.

"Don't worry, I will." Samantha said upon reaching the front door as she unsnapped the holster on her recently acquired sidearm. She rang the bell as if it was Avon calling.

"Door is open. Come inside and step into my parlor." Jackie's cryptic voice came through the door.

Turning the doorknob, Samantha lightly pushed the door open, while keeping her free hand down by her unsnapped gun holster Ricardo insisted she carry. The door swung inward to reveal Jackie sitting like a statue on the couch, facing the door. Samantha stepped inside, slightly taken aback by the sight of Jackie's blank-eyed, thousand-yard stare.

Seeing Samantha's startled reaction brought on the slightest of grins creeping through Jackie's stone hard countenance.

"I'll be damned. I didn't think anyone could get you to blink. What happened to the tough as nails tomboy I called friend and roommate for two years? What could possibly make you so nervous by simply being in my presence? Could it be some act of betrayal or just a guilty conscience?"

"Listen, Jackie. It does not have to go down like this. We can find a way to work things out. This doesn't have to end badly. Maybe Ricardo can arrange another SBP match for you."

Samantha attempted to reason with Jackie, who appeared quite poised, considering her present situation.

"As I am sure you know I never much cared about being matched to anyone before. And even though I believe Bill could sense that in me, he never said a word and always treated me with respect. He used to love talking about his work, and I was a good listener. I remember him telling me after the Caesar's Palace bombing how easy it would be for anyone to make an explosive device out of everyday household products. You just need the right ingredients and know how to mix them properly.

An apprehensive feeling started growing in Samantha's gut, trying to figure out what Jackie meant.

"So tell me, Samantha. Does Ricardo make his own bombs or did he get somebody to do his dirty work for him, like he did with you and me?"

Samantha started visually scanning the room with her eyes to see if anything was out of place, trying not to alert Jackie of her suspicions when Ricardo's voice rang out in her ear through her headset.

"What did she just say?"

"I'm not sure what she is getting at." Samantha said in a soft voice.

Jackie seemed to get a lift from realizing Samantha was in communication with someone. She leaned forward and picked up the CPU-HDTV remote off the coffee table.

"Is that Ricardo you are speaking to?" Jackie asked. "How long before he gets here?"

"He will be here in less than thirty minutes."

"Too bad we don't have time. I wish he could have been here for this."

"What is she talking about?" Ricardo's voice called out in her ear, hearing the same apprehension in his words Samantha felt from standing in the same room with Jackie. "I don't like it. Get out of there."

"Hey, Ricardo," Jackie shouted out, making sure he heard what she said next. "You broke my heart, and now I am going to break yours."

Jackie pointed the remote at the CPU-HDTV.

Samantha followed her line of sight from the remote to the CPU-HDTV mounted in the wall and noticed for the first time a strange clay like substance molded around the edge of the screen with wires connecting to the control panel.

"Sam, get out of there. Get out now!" Ricardo screamed after realizing what was about to happen.

"It's too late. Goodbye, my love."

As Jackie clicked on the remote, the whole house exploded into a giant flaming ball of shooting debris. Samantha and Jackie where caught in the main blast area, killing them instantly. They never felt a thing. Engulfed in flames from sitting on the couch in front of the CPU-HDTV, the blast practically incinerated Jackie as it sent Samantha flying backwards and crashing through the door right onto the front lawn.

The brunt of the shock wave blasting through the wooden structure killed the six-man HOUSE team, propelling their burned and charred bodies into the air, torn to shreds from the flying debris.

A high-pitched screech sounded out in Ricardo's ear for a quick second before going completely dead silent. On the distance horizon ahead of him, Ricardo could see a giant cloud puff of smoke rising up from the ground as the sun was on its final set before fading into a moonlit night.

By the time he arrived on the scene, the fire department had put out the fire, successfully preventing it from spreading to the other houses in the SBP neighborhood. Along with the fire engines, there were several different types of emergency vehicles, coroners' vans, and unnecessary ambulances—since the victims were all deceased. No one survived the blast beyond a few garbled, blood spewed words from the lips of a dying man, who just happened to be the son of the DOS Committee Expert.

Ricardo said nothing, showed no emotions, and stood like a statue, much in the same way Jackie sat on the couch. He listened to the reports spoken in his ear with his mind far away in another place. Lorenzo stood by his side, affirming or countermanding inquires on how to proceed next.

"Yes, the medical examiner may remove the bodies. No do not send out any death notifications until all the deceased have been identified. I am sure the Chief Magistrate would rather take care of the notifications himself."

When Ricardo and Lorenzo were the only ones left, Ricardo finally spoke.

"Lorenzo, go get our song bird. It is time for him to start singing about everything he knows, or else I am going to clip his wings."

8

Bouncing hard off the solid concrete wall of the detention cell with a heavy thud, the man slumped down on the floor curled up in a ball of fear. Lorenzo's rank breath exhaled down on him from an elevated position as the big man stood over the cowering man.

Ricardo stepped up behind Lorenzo with a supporting hand on the open cell door and issued instructions on how he wanted the interrogation to commence.

"Lorenzo, remember when I told you to take it easy on the other one. You don't have to worry about that with this one. Do whatever it takes to get him to tell you everything he knows. I do not care how small the detail. By the time you are done, you should know how old he was when he stopped wetting the bed. Do you understand? Be thorough. I want complete and full disclosure. I don't care if you have to break anything, just make sure he is conscious and can still talk." Ricardo gave his orders to the delight of Lorenzo and outright terror of the man on the floor.

"No, wait. I will tell you everything I know. I'll talk..."

"Save it, Norman. You had your chance to walk away unscathed. It is time to show you the cost of your silence. He is all yours, Lorenzo."

Letting out a scoffing, satisfied sigh, the big man towering over Norman Charlotte was more than obliged to carry out his orders. Norman could tell this was a man who enjoyed his work and played his hold card in an attempt to lessen coming blow, but only managed to increase the magnitude.

"Hanna Scott is a FWF spy!"

Ricardo stopped in his tracks, causing Lorenzo to hold up with his appointed duty.

"What are you saying? Where is your proof? Why should I believe you?"

"I recruited her." Norman said, reluctant to reveal the truth of his involvement.

"Well that just proves you are a liar. Because you were either lying to me when we met, claiming Samantha was your first recruit, or you are lying to me now, which would be a big mistake and really upset me." Ricardo stated his conclusions attempting to reason what lie was true and which one false—a hard thing to do with logic and semantics getting in the way.

"She knows who the Prophet Warrior's heir is."

Norman gave Ricardo crucial information he hoped would shift the focus from him, but soon realized the adverse effect from holding back the pertinent data.

"Lorenzo," Ricardo said nodding his head toward Norman.

Lorenzo stepped forward, grabbed Norman by his shirt collar, and gave him a few quick jabs in the face. The first punch broke Norman's nose in three places as the second sent two red rivers a flowing from it. The third was for good measure, after which Lorenzo let Norman fall back onto the concrete floor.

"Norman, if you are lying to me, I swear I will have Lorenzo break every bone in your body. This has been a very costly day for me. So do not waste my time. What you are saying just doesn't make any sense. I know the GAC handpicked Hanna for Jacob."

Beaten, bloodied, and broken, Norman remained on the floor with tears rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the blood running from his nose and dripping onto the floor.

"It did not make sense to the FWF, either. It happened a week before she was supposed to be matched to the heir. She received an exclusive, For Her Eyes Only identity packet with the name of the heir and some personal information. I wouldn't even know who he was until after they were successfully matched." Norman's confession was factual.

"If this is true, why didn't you tell me about this back then? You could have saved yourself a great deal of trouble if you had."

"After Hanna was matched to Jacob, I didn't know what to think. How could I expect you to believe me? The FWF did not know what to do about her. They cut off all ties and left her to fend for herself. They believed she would never dare tell Jacob the truth."

While it didn't make much sense to Norman or the FWF, Ricardo was privy to some inside information they could not access. If he had known about this earlier, he would never have setup Jackie there, and poor Samantha would still be alive. Ricardo was going to crush Jacob with this so her death would not be in vain. He knew what he needed to do now. He had to go draft a warrant for Hanna's arrest and material witness warrants for Michael and Eve. He would go and bring them back himself, unless of course anyone resisted arrest, and he surely hoped they would. His pent up rage was about to boil and ready to expel his furious wrath on those he felt deserved it.

But for now, Norman would do.

After getting a full video confession out of Norman, Ricardo gave Lorenzo a bone to chew on while he went and filled out the paper work.

"Lorenzo, keep Norman entertained while I get these warrant issued. Show him the cost of holding back vital information. Just make sure he is able to testify in court."

"I understand completely, Chief Magistrate Danielle. I'll teach him real good."

"No, wait. I told you everything I know, please." Norman pleaded for mercy.

"Yes. You did. But you should have told me sooner." Ricardo said before walking away as Lorenzo closed in on the terrified man cowering on the floor.

9

Stepping out into the night air, Ricardo started heading down the long, expansive courthouse steps with his legal warrants. Before paying a visit to Norman's cell, Ricardo informed the DOS Committee Expert of his son's tragic demise, assuring his new ally he would totally destroy the FWF so completely they would never rise up again. He vowed extreme and swift justice on anyone who had anything to do with it. Whoever was involved, directly or indirectly, would pay for their treachery.

After arriving at the courthouse, Ricardo never doubted for a second whether they would grant him the warrants and provide him with the means to seek out justice. The DOS Committee Expert never asked about the alleged torture video that didn't show Ricardo on camera, and seemed unconcerned with the whole matter. The old war dog knew the need to extract information by any means necessary when it could be the difference between saving the lives of many over the discomfort of the few.

Seeing SI Chandra walking up the steps, Ricardo could not help but wonder what could possibly bring him out to court this time of night.

"Chief Magistrate Danielle, I would like to offer my deepest condolences for your loss earlier today. It is such a shame to lose so many fine young people in their prime. Det. Archer was a highly competent investigator and a credit to the job."

"I appreciate your kind words. She was the best I have ever known. I will...I do miss her. Sadly, I cannot allow my heavy heart to get in the way of doing my duty to seek justice on anyone involved in the plots and schemes of these FWF rebels."

"I can see you must be moving on some recent development in the case, if I am not mistaken about those being warrants tucked under your arm. Following up on a hot lead, I take it."

"Yes, some new evidence has come to light that I am going to personally follow up. It is high priority, sensitive need to know information. So you will understand why I cannot tell you anymore right now. But I may inquire, what brings you to the halls of justice at this hour?"

"I have been called in by the Committee of Experts for a special assignment. They appointed me as a Special Investigator to look into the alleged torture video released earlier today and any connection with the bombing at Jackie Roberts' home. I am sorry to have put you through this, but I'm going to need to get statements from you and Lorenzo when available." Chandra informed him of his new promotion and required duties.

"No problem, we can schedule an interview as soon as I get back from serving these warrants. Congratulations on the promotion. I cannot think of anyone more qualified for the job. I will sleep better knowing you are working the case.

"See you when you get back then. I still have some preliminary investigating to complete. I am sure it will turn out to be nothing when seen in a proper context."

"Yes, I am certain of it. We will talk more when I get back."

"Once again, accept my condolences for your loss." Chandra said as Ricardo left.

Having called ahead, Lorenzo was waiting for him parked at the bottom of the courthouse steps. Getting in the car, Ricardo could not shake the feeling that there were outside forces working against him, colluding with his enemies.

"Get me to Tracy, California as fast as possible, Lorenzo. We need to move quickly from now on."

"Does this mean you are willing to fly, Chief Magistrate Danielle?" Lorenzo asked, knowing Ricardo's fear of flying always kept him firmly planted on the ground, but sensed his urgency and decided to ask.

"No. Just drive as fast as you can." Ricardo said unable to conquer his fear when faced with responding urgently to a situation. He knew it was an irrational phobia. One he could not find a rational explanation to expel the terrifying fear of not being in control.

10

Max and Jean traveled incognito, driving out to Tracy, California with a forty-mile head start on Ricardo and Lorenzo. They had what seemed like an insurmountable twenty-seven miles more to their destination. While they left three hours before their traveling foes, Max and Jean had to navigate through the back roads with Jean doing the driving in order to keep Max out of sight and their cover intact. Not wanting to travel during the day, they waited until sunset instead of leaving directly after Jean's impromptu meeting with Chandra sent them on the unscheduled road trip. It was a decision they soon found themselves regretting when Chandra called to warn them about Ricardo being on his way with some warrants.

When Chandra approached her walking through the park—her favorite place to go think and get away from it all—Jean didn't expect anything out the ordinary that day, since she was not there to meet Max. She was strolling along when Chandra stepped out from behind a large tree on the path she was walking as he tried to set her on another one.

Unsure of why he was there, or what he could possibly want from her, Jean's initial reaction was one of frightened uncertainty. Her first thought, however ridiculous, was to run. Chandra seemed to sense his presence was causing her concern and attempted to alleviate the notion of hostile intent.

"You have nothing to fear from me, my good lady. I assure you. I come in peace and bear you no ill will. In fact, my purpose is quite the opposite. Since, I come bearing a gift and one humble request." SI Chandra said, illustrating his good intentions.

Letting out a gentle sigh of relief, Jean could feel her heart start beating normally inside her chest again. Put more at ease, she refused to let her guard totally down.

"You will have to excuse my confusion. I do not understand what it is you think I can do for you." Jean said.

"All I ask of you, my dear, is to do me a favor by simply passing on to a friend of yours, should you have occasion to see him, this old maxim; 'When you see after dark into forever tomorrow, the written words of The Author can be found hidden in between the lines on the pages of The Book of Tomorrows'. And give him this gift." Chandra said in a tactful manner, not saying whom, only insinuating she might be in a position to pass on something to someone.

Coined by the Good Doctor, the passcode dated back to the roots of the free will rebellion. Originally devised as a code phrase and counter phrase, the first half was an introduction with the second half given in response, reminiscent of the old cold war days. While Jean was not familiar with the odd phrase, Max knew the old adage well. He just had not heard it spoken in over twenty years. Chandra also told her the gift he was passing on to her was not for the person he wanted her to say the passcode to, but someone else they both knew and imperative she get it to him as soon as possible.

Even though Chandra did not know whom the warrants were for or how many there were, he warned Jean to be careful. Ricardo was acting much too calm, almost absent of any emotions, only focused on the task ahead of him. They were blanket warrants, legally issued with the name redacted from official and public records until served to the person whose name appeared only on the actual document. It could be anyone of them. The only other tidbit of information Chandra could dig up had to do with a black-bagged detainee suspected of being a member of the FWF.

Max and Jean knew it could mean only one thing.

Somebody's cover had to be blown, and it wasn't hard to figure out who's, especially since they were the ones who recruited Eve and very few people knew who she really was, or Michael, for that matter. As for them, Max was already a wanted fugitive, thanks to Norman Charlotte lying to Ricardo about Max being the one who recruited him. They barely knew each other, but Norman resented the fact Max always manage to move around freely. It was a mystery to most FWF members, including Jean, who was one of the few not suspicious of Max because of it. After her meeting with Chandra, Jean finally learned why and understood the need for secrecy.

Chandra gave Jean the implant to pass on, which was not for Max. He didn't need an implant, since he already had one given to him by the GAC when first starting his ultra-secret spy network. Max was a sleeper agent with no contact whatsoever with the other members of the group. Operating under a deep cover mission, he could not even tell Jean the truth. His single standing order from the GAC was to wait. When the time came, he would know it on the day someone told him the secret passcode phrase.

Their lead on Ricardo had diminished considerably by the time they reached Tracy, with Ricardo able to travel as fast as he could, while they had to remain off radar. Pulling into the Tracy motel adjacent to the airport, Jean parked her recently acquired Eco-Camper Van in front of Michael's and Eve's room, next to Jacob's and Hanna's. Jean had the van allocated for her new job traveling around to the country's National State Parks giving lectures and teaching children about the wonders of nature. It was a great way to travel without drawing attention and also something Jean enjoyed doing.

Getting out of the van and looking around the motel parking lot for anybody passing by or loitering around, Jean waited a moment before approaching Michael and Eve's room. Before she could knock on their door, the door to the other honeymooning couple's room opened up halfway as Jacob poked his head out.

"Jean, we are over here."

Cautiously looking over at Jacob, Jean had no reason to doubt his loyalty. He knew the truth about Michael and Eve, along with Hanna revealing her own hidden identity, uniting them all in a common cause. Jean still could not be sure about someone so close to the GAC. Her concern was for Max's safety, but she decided to trust Michael and Eve's instincts.

"I have someone in the van."

"Tell Max it is safe to come in out of the cold. We are all on the same side now."

With the dark of night providing ample cover, Jean ushered Max into the motel room with only a starry sky bearing witness, but even the stars have eyes sometimes.

Once inside the safe confines of four walls and a ceiling, the odd alliance of mutually forged new friendships discussed what had been and what was to come in their fight for truth and justice.

"After getting your call, Michael and Eve went to prepare the plane for their extended trip." Jacob said in reference to the need for their hurried night flight.

Hanna sat on the edge of the bed, presenting a picture of calm, even though her stomach was churning with the worry Jacob freely expressed through his body language. Pacing back and forth, his concern for Hanna's safety came from knowing Ricardo was on the way, believing he knew whom he was coming for and why.

"Is it close? Can I walk there from here? I have something very important to give Michael from Foster Gideon." Max asked, informing them of his intentions.

"You can get there unnoticed through a path out back by the pool. It leads to the hanger where Eve stored the plane they commandeered for the trip." Jacob told Max. Then tilted his head toward Hanna and said. "I have been trying to convince Hanna to go with them."

"I already told you, Jacob. They don't have the room and cannot afford the extra weight with their fuel. Eve had to outfit the plane with an extra fuel tank just to make the long trip over the ocean possible." Hanna insisted Jacob was not thinking clearly.

"Ricardo is on his way. I believe he is coming for you. If he has a legal warrant, I will not be able to stop him without a fight." Jacob said, indicating that would not stop him.

"He won't be far behind us. So it might be better if I wasn't here when he arrives." Max said about his presence being a bigger problem.

"I will go watch for them coming." GP Sally volunteered, wanting to improve his position, which had a poor sightline to see anyone approaching until it was too late to do anything about it.

"Good idea, Harvey. Check it out. Don't let them know you are here. If we can get out of here undetected it will take more time to figure out where we went. I don't think Ricardo knows Eve is a pilot." Jacob said.

Harvey went out to make sure the coast was clear, walking around to the front of the building's inverted horseshoe design as the airport motel curved around an in-ground pool located out back. He was able to get a better vantage point of the entrance, a hundred yards up an asphalt driveway. There was an old bi-plane fuselage mounted on the roof of the aviator motel, setting down in a valley off the highway.

Back in the motel room, Jean took off a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant and cupped it in her hand as she reached out and touched Max on the back of his shoulder.

"Max, give this to Eve for me."

"Hun, what is that? Why don't you give to her yourself?"

"Jacob and Hanna will show you the way to the plane. I will wait here to see if I cannot delay them. I have a legitimate reason for being here. It will take them time to question me and buy you more time." Jean said, explaining the plan she made up in her mind the moment she walked in the door.

"Jean, you don't have to do this. I do not trust Ricardo. He is unstable and capable of anything." Max objected to her plan.

"If it is my safety you are worried about, then it would be safer for me to stay here. Don't you think?" Jean pointed out the risk of hanging out with known fugitives.

"She is right, you know. The longer we stay here the more danger she will be in."

Jacob agreed with Jean's reasoning. Accenting his point, GP Sally came barging back into the room.

"Ricardo just pulled up with a HOUSE team. They stopped at the manager's desk to get your room number."

Jean gave Max a big hug and a kiss, placing the necklace in his hand and closed it around the sentimental memento.

"Tell Eve and Michael goodbye for me and to make it back home safely."

"If we are going, we got to go now." Jacob said as he guided Hanna toward the back door.

11

The death of the DOS Committee Expert's son removed all bureaucratic red tape in Ricardo's way, giving him the impunity to operate freely with the stout belief he could get away with anything. Unlike the ultra-secret spy group created by the GAC, HOUSE members were a close, tightknit group, a band of brothers and sisters living by a code of honor to let no offense go unpunished. Ricardo had a six man HOUSE team assigned to do his bidding, along with Kara and Aidan, who were no longer in Ricardo's good graces for not keeping a closer watch on Michael's and Jacob's movements.

Stopping in front of the manager's office, Ricardo and Lorenzo stepped out of their vehicle with the rest of his team remaining stationary.

"Lorenzo go rattle the night clerk's cage and find out what rooms they are in."

While he did not openly show it, Ricardo deeply felt the pain of his loss. Devastated on the inside, his broken heart freely bled, filling his lungs with the bloody breath of vengeance.

Lorenzo loudly banged on the manager's door, ignoring the intercom system provided for after-hours visitors. The loud knocking caused a short, little man, almost a midget, to answer his rude visitor in an angry tone as he pulled his robe tight around his stocky body.

"What is the meaning of this? Who do you think you are banging on my door like that at this hour?" The little man's high-pitched voice fell to a near silent whimper after looking up at Lorenzo's menacing presence. "What I meant to say was, how may I serve you this fine evening, kind sir."

12

Grabbing an ice bucket from off the nightstand, Jean went out to see if Ricardo was on his way over. She could hear Lorenzo's loud banging as she stepped outside. Looking back over to where the airport was located, Jean nearly panicked after seeing Max and the others would be out in the open field they had to cross to get to the runway, in plain view if Ricardo and his men came around the corner too soon.

Jean dropped the ice bucket on the ground and picked up a stone from rock gardens lining the flowerbeds under each motel room window. Without taking time to think, Jean acted on pure instinct, doing whatever she could to slow Ricardo down. Using the large stone, she broke out both the headlights on the Camper Van, which was the only way to turn them off at night.

When first arriving at the motel, Jean took note of the narrow turn she had to make in the parking lot driveway to get around to the side of the building, thinking how two cars would never fit at the same time should they meet.

Getting in the Camper Van, Jean started it up and drove blindly around the bend at an accelerated speed.

Bright lights briefly blinded Jean for a moment as she turned the corner just before crashing into blackness. The metal crunching sound reverberated out over the grass field separating the runway from the motel. The darkness lasted for a few seconds as light brightened night once more.

Jean felt a small trickle of blood dribble down her forehead from a cut she received after bumping her head on the steering wheel. Several armed men surrounded the van, pointing flashlight-affixed guns at her.

"You, in the vehicle, slowly place your hands, palms down on the dashboard, and do not make any sudden movements," a strong voice of authority bellowed orders from outside the van.

Another armed young man yanked opened the crumbled and dented driver's side door, causing the metal to cry out in scrape scratching anguish. Propping the door open with his body while maintaining a sightline on the occupant, the soldier shouted out more commands.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, and do exactly what I say, when I say it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand." Jean said.

"Okay, I want you to slowly step out of the vehicle and place your hands, palms down, on the side of the van. Do it now."

Jean did as instructed, taking advantage of the time delay impeding them from reaching their objective, even though the situation had gotten a little scary, not expecting their reaction to be so intense.

A female HOUSE agent patted Jean down for weapons then backed up, giving space for Ricardo to come over and question her.

"I am really sorry about all this, but it was just an accident, you see. I did not mean to get you boys all riled up. I am quite harmless, I assure you." Jean said trying to convince them of her non-hostile intentions.

The HOUSE agent who opened up the van door conducted a plain sight, visual scan of its interior. Picking up Jean's purse from off the passenger seat, he did a quick search of its contents, removed her Allo-Card I.D., and handed it to Ricardo as he came walking over.

Taking the Allo-Card and scanning it on a portable card reader attached to his wrist, Ricardo waited a second for it to tell him what he already suspected about the woman. He had seen her somewhere before, but could not place the face.

"My name is Jean Stephens. I am a Naturalist traveling our National Parks and Wildlife Preserves teaching school children the beauties of nature."

"You were also Eve Adams' Career Counselor for the past fifteen years." Ricardo said, elaborating on Jean's previous employment relevant to finding his objective. "Where is she?"

"I am a registered guest here, but I have not seen Eve. Do you mean to tell me she is staying here, too? I had no idea. What a small world it is."

Ricardo gave her a silent, doubtful look, knowing full well she was lying as he tried to decide how far he would go to get her to tell him the truth.

13

Going through her pre-flight checklist, Eve wanted to make sure everything was in perfect working order before heading out on the long, dangerous flight nearly seven thousand miles over open sea. Michael stood watch outside the hanger Eve stored the plane in so she could outfit the twin engine Cessna with a spare fuel tank for the extended trip down under.

Michael was looking out for Jacob and the others, who he could see stepping off the grass field and onto the runway as the sound of Jean's van crashing into Ricardo's vehicle echoed out in the night.

Max stopped and turned around. With an involuntary impulse, he took a few steps back toward the hotel before stopping again.

Michael ran across the tarmac to see what happened.

"What on earth was that? Where is Jean?"

"Buying us time, so let's not waste it standing around." Max kept a strong resolve.

Busy going through the final prep procedures, right down to kicking the landing gear tires, Eve did not hear the crash from inside the closed hanger, unaware Jean was not with them until they entered the hanger without her.

"Ricardo is coming. We got to get going, or we never will." Michael told Eve, who was looking around for Jean, finally asking.

"Where is Jean?"

"She wanted to be here to say goodbye, but thought it imperative to do what she could to delay Ricardo so you could get away." Max said reaching out and taking her hand. "She wanted you to have this."

Max placed the necklace in her hand and gave her two kisses, one on each cheek from each of them as Eve choked back her tears.

"You can always count on Jean to make the hard choice when protecting those she cares about." Eve said to Max, trying to hide her concern for Jean.

"Or those she loves as do I." Max added as he gave Eve a big hug.

Michael walked over to join them, sensing Eve's sadness in not getting to say goodbye to her mentor, surrogate mother.

"Michael, I have something for you from Foster Gideon." Max said as reached in his pants pocket and handed Michael the retinal implant. "It works like a contacts lens. Just put it in your eye, and it will give you access to Foster whenever you need it."

Harvey stood outside the hanger watching for approaching vehicles, knowing it would not take Ricardo long to figure out where they went.

"Somebody has to turn on the runway lights." Michael said.

"I'll do it. Where is the switch?" Max volunteered his services, adding. "It would be better if I was out of sight when they got here."

"It is in the office on the other side of the runway. The switch should be on the wall behind the main desk. Wait until you hear the engine start, then light it up." Eve said.

"Consider it done. You two see if you can get there and back again before your baby is born. Or he won't be considered a citizen of New America." Max said injecting a small moment of levity and giving them each a hug before heading over to the office, with friendly nods to Jacob and Hanna on the way out.

Michael and Eve shared a brief moment for sad goodbyes with Jacob and Hanna.

Looking at his good friend, Michael let out the heavy sigh of a weary soldier who had seen too much blood spilled on the battlefield, and knew there would be more to come before the war was over, with no guarantee of a happy ending reuniting old friends. He started to feel like a deserter, abandoning the brave men and women risking their freedom and lives fighting for his legacy.

"I cannot help feeling like I am running out on you at a time when everything is coming apart at the seams. All because of whom I am supposed to be, but I still don't know what it means, if anything."

"You cannot think like that. You need to stay focused on what you are doing. Because where you are going, you will be the one taking the greater risk."

Jacob contradicted Michael's feeling of desertion, giving a quick eye glance over to a very pregnant Eve, who looked more like Amelia Earhart in her aviator's jacket and pilot's goggles, than a mother-to-be as she stood next to Hanna.

"Oh, let me help you with that." Hanna offered Eve her assistance in putting on the necklace Max gave her from Jean, and then voiced her concern in a softer tone only Eve could hear. "Do please be careful flying in your condition."

"No need to worry now I have my good luck charm to keep me safe from harm."

Harvey rushed into the hanger through a small side door with an alerted presence.

"Two vehicles approaching from the motel just turned off the highway into the airport. The second vehicle has frontend damage and no headlights. Ricardo figured out where we are."

"It is time to start your engines, Eve." Hanna told her as she gave her a quick hug. "Be careful and come back safe."

"You be careful, too. It is going to get pretty heavy around here after we are gone." Eve warned her, giving Jacob and Harvey hugs of solidarity before getting in the plane.

"Jacob, I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you have done and are doing for me." Michael expressed his gratitude to his good friend as Eve started the Cessna's twin engines. "Believe it or not, I think I am going to miss you most of all, scarecrow." He told Harvey with a satirical reference he was sure he wouldn't recognize.

"Just get going, now. Jacob and I will get the hanger doors. Once they are open, don't stop for anything." Harvey kept his stoic demeanor.

Over in the office, Max waited, anxiously listening for the sound of the plane's engines roaring to life so he could flip the switch to light her way. But it was the headlights he saw pulling into the airport that concerned him more. He had a straight on view of the hanger from the front office on the opposite side of the runway.

Max saw two assault vehicles pull around the front of the hanger and stop. Everyone exited the vehicles. He could see Jean stepping out of the one with the broken headlights, held under guard, but still alive and well. Ricardo directed his men to surround the hanger. Max decided to give them someplace else to focus their attention.

The runway lights came on a moment before the Cessna's engines started up, quickly followed by Jacob and Harvey shoving open the hanger doors. Temporarily discombobulated by the blazing bright lights lining the runway, Ricardo did not know which way to turn when the sound of the plane moving out of the hanger caught his attention. It moved past him in between the two assault vehicles, barely squeezing through, and cutting Ricardo off from Lorenzo and everyone else with his back to the office building.

"The plane, the plane, they are in the plane."

Ricardo heard Lorenzo yell out, as Eve turned left to taxi onto the runway. After a delayed reaction, Ricardo pulled out his gun and fired several shots at the Cessna, hitting the fuselage on the pilot's side.

As the plane continued down the runway, picking up speed, Ricardo attempted to fire more shots at it, but Max ran out of the office and plowed into his back with a violent force. Taken off guard, Ricardo's gun fell from his hand as he went to ground with Max landing on top of him. He punched Ricardo in the face several times, before reaching over and picking up the discarded gun.

Max stood over Ricardo and was about to put one right between his eyes when two bullets blasted into his chest. Falling to his knees and dropping the gun, Max could hear Jean screaming as Ricardo got to his feet. Pulling out his specially made staff from inside his jacket, he hit the trigger release and the two spear-tipped ends shot out. Ricardo spun around and ran it through Max's stomach.

"Max. No." Jean cried out, breaking free of her guards as she tried to run over to Max.

Sending her sprawling backwards halfway across the runway, Lorenzo elbowed Jean across the bridge of her nose. Both her eyes were black before she hit the ground, with the rest of face covered in the blood flowing profusely from her nose.

Lorenzo, his gun still smoking from shooting Max, stood over Jean unsatisfied with the damage done and decided to finish the job.

Harvey, in a moment of spontaneous rage, grabbed a gun from the holster of one of the HOUSE agent who instantly surrounded him, Jacob, and Hanna after the plane left the hanger. With one precise shot, Harvey put a bullet right between Lorenzo's eyes as the Cessna left the runway and flew off into the dark night.

Harvey surrendered the gun to the HOUSE agent he took it from as the others pointed theirs at him.

"Shoot him." Ricardo yelled running over after seeing Lorenzo lying dead on the tarmac, a pool of blood forming around his head.

"Sorry, sir, I cannot obey that order. He has freely surrendered, and I personally do not blame him for what he just did. I might have done it myself if he didn't." the HOUSE team leader said with a defiantly righteous conviction.

"Arrest him, then. Arrest all of them, especially her." Ricardo ordered, pointing an accusing finger at Hanna as he pulled out his warrant. "She is a wanted FWF spy, and they were aiding and abetting."

"Yes, sir, Chief Magistrate Danielle," the team leader barked out his response then turned to Harvey, speaking in a lower voice. "I am sorry about this, sir, but we have orders. Nice shot by the way."

"This isn't over yet, Ricardo." Jacob said.

"No, it is just beginning.

CHAPTER NINE

### FUTURE DARKNESS TOMORROW

"Oh, from this time forth my thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth"

William Shakespeare's Hamlet

After reaching the appropriate altitude, Eve switched on the autopilot as they flew into the starry night sky on their long journey to a place way down under. The distance they needed to travel was great, even as the crow flies, and without the luxury of having some island paradise to land on for a quick stopover. Their flight was nearly 7,000 miles, non-stop over the Pacific Ocean in the little plane Eve especially equipped for the trip.

Eve planned for just about every contingency she could think of to make a successful journey to their destination, except for the one thing she never conceived or gave a second thought. Reaching her right hand under the left side of her aviator's jacket, she could feel the moisture forming and spreading out down her side.

Looking over at Michael in the co-pilot's chair, Eve did not know how to tell him or how he would react to the news, but she needed to count on Michael's ability to keep a level head in extreme situations, something he had proven quite adept at when dealing with personal inflictions. She hoped he could still keep his cool when dealing with those of others. They could not afford to panic at 40,000 feet.

"Michael, we might have a bit of a problem here." Eve said in a calm voice as she removed a bloody hand from inside her jacket.

### ###

The End of Dark Light Present Today

Book Two: Forever Tomorrow

Volume One: The Book of Tomorrows

Book Three: Evening Dawn Future Tomorrow

Will be released at the end of the trilogy after

Volume Two: I, Messiah &

Volume Three: The Prophet Warrior

Be sure to look for these other exciting titles also available from Alexander Ulysses Thor in both printed or EBook formats

The World According to CHAD *

(Complete History Archive Database)

A Prelude to Volume One: Forever Tomorrow

*EBook only

Bright Night Past Yesterday

Book One: Forever Tomorrow

The Book of Tomorrows: Volume One

I, Messiah

The Book of Tomorrows: Volume Two

Coming soon

The Prophet Warrior:

The Book of Tomorrows: Volume Three

&

Evening Dawn Future Tomorrow

Book Three: Forever Tomorrow

The Book of Tomorrows: Volume One

### About the Author

Growing up in a small town in New Jersey, Alexander Ulysses Thor developed a strong thirst for knowledge at an early age. He moved to California at the turn of the century to chase down his dreams of Hollywood stardom with a screenplay contract offer for $200,000.00 he couldn't refuse. Finding himself frustrated with the vagaries of Tinsel Town gamesmanship, Alexander went back to his first love of writing novels. After experiencing an epiphany of purpose, Alexander finally realized his reason for being. He was born to use the awesome power of the Written Word found in the pages of A Good Story to expose the Hypocrisy of Truth spreading out from living in a Disinformation Age. Born in the early Sixties, Alexander has witnessed the most progressive decades of change since the Industrial Revolution modernized the world with mechanical wonders. It gives him a unique perspective and the proper mindset to take on such an ambitious, potentially controversial project as The Book of Tomorrows.

### A Disclaimer

One thing I want to make perfectly clear, this is a work of fiction. The Book of Tomorrows is not an indictment against any one political ideology, religious belief, or system of government. It is an indictment against all of them. Or, I should more accurately say, the perversion of them. The reasoning for the old adage about how everything looks good on paper is because once the Human Factor is calculated into the equation, it is what usually screws things up.

### Acknowledgements

There have been many famous people who have influenced and motivated me, from those I greatly respect and admire to those I despise as hypocritical puppets and fools, but I would like to express my appreciation to family, friends, and the helpful advice of everyday, casual acquaintances for their moral support and vital feedback.

One of the side effects of becoming a social nomad is being dependent on advice from the kindness of likeminded strangers and friendly co-workers. People like security supervisor, Jonathan Chico, whose initial input gave me the validation I needed at a crucial time in this novel. Also, I want to thank Sara Cochinwala, Jolene Roper, Logan Goldstein and the boys (Angelo, Trey, & Bora) for helping me see after dark the light of life burning bright in their youthful eyes, to Al Festa for being the best man I know, to Delta (Dee Dee) Spaniol for seeing the light even on the darkest days, and to all the good Samaritans giving me hope in every strangers eyes, where I can still see a reflection of myself.

There have been many wonderful, positive, and good things that inspire us to creatively express ourselves, but what I find usually motivates people more than anything are the things that really piss us off. While there are many people who have irked my anger, I will not name them or give them credit here. And it may very well be the things pissing me off motivating my literary tongue to wag, it is the words and works of those I consider the best of the best stimulating me to express my creative desires in a way that will stand the test of time with the great masters.

One thing I have always been fond of saying, if you want to find the real truth in this world, get to the heart of the matter, forget about the news, the media, politicians, or world leaders, and go ask a comedian. Lenny Bruce, Red Foxx, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Bill Maher, Jon Stewart, pre-9/11 Dennis Miller, the brilliant façade of Stephen Colbert, Robert Schimmel, Stephanie Hodge, Andrew Dice Clay, Chris Rock, and many more, spew more truth with one joke than most news reports or political speeches ever will. But my real inspirational driving force was born from the works of authors, musicians, and filmmakers, who changed and touched my life with their creative craft and given me a unique insight into the world.

I consider William Shakespeare's Hamlet to be the greatest piece of literature ever written, period. It is so much more than a ghost tale. My favorite musician is Roger Waters, even though I consider Beethoven's 9th the supreme musical masterpiece of all time. I also like Roger's solo work more than his famous outings with Floyd—oh, by the way, which one is Pink? As for film, there is only one true master, Stanley Kubrick. Every film is among the very best of whatever genre he re-created with his visually profound commentary on the human condition. Recently, an unorthodox protégé, a true prodigy of the art, a Mozart of words and celluloid, has emerged in Quentin Tarantino. Nobody does it better now. However, my favorite film is still Bob Fosse's 1979 masterpiece, All That Jazz, maybe because I saw it at impressionable age, like when I was only nine years old and saw Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch at a drive-in.

I must also tip my hat to Bob Dylan, William Goldman (Magic is one of the best novels), Sidney Lumet, David Bowie, Stephen King, Martin Scorsese, Neil Young, Harold Robbins, Sydney Pollack, Led Zeppelin, Edgar Allen Poe, John Houston, Jimi Hendrix, J.R.R. Tolkien, Orson Welles, The Who, Terry Brooks, Michael Cimino, Jim Morrison, Michael Crichton, Oliver Stone, Janis Joplin, George Orwell, Robert Altman, Blue Cheer, Ray Bradbury, Christopher Nolan (Memento is still his best), Eric Clapton, Paddy Chayefsky, Ken Russell, Mott the Hoople and many, many, more. Throughout this novel, I pay homage to these and many other great artists by way of allegorical metaphors, direct quotes, referential phrasing, and a genre twisting parodies.

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