Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

I am in the backseat of a silver E-Class Mercedes. We’re crawling along at 65 miles an hour and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Dad always used to say that a black Mercedes S 500 whispered elegance. It’s a true luxury car without the
hey look at me
nature of a Bentley or a Rolls Royce. He also liked the sportiness available in the C-Class Mercedes, but he was not a fan of the E-Class. “A vehicle for pretenders,” he calls it.

These two pretenders might be robots. They sit in their front seats staring straight ahead. Classical music is on the radio but at a maddeningly low volume. I know it’s there, I can hear it, but not well enough to make out what it is. If this didn’t seem so routine for them and so in-line with the personalities I’ve seen, I would think they are messing with me. I suppose they could be messengers bringing me to me Ames where scientists will poke, prod and dissect me to figure out why I didn’t die from the “killer cold.” But no, they wouldn’t have waited for me. They would have taken Mom already.

I might as well try and liven things up.

“So what are you two ladies working on?” I’m light and bubbly in a way that is not characteristic.

“We’re studying the energy transfer from light particles as they collide with a variety of newly formed materials.” Cassandra has her answer well-rehearsed. I’m not sure if this is a benefit or a curse of working in a university setting.

The first thing that comes to my mind is the paper on the solar sail that I read back home before the pandemic wiped out the planet. Much like a regular sail transfers the energy from the wind as it collides with the cloth, there will need to be a substance to allow the transfer of energy from light. While I did not see the Crenshaw name in the paper, I suspect that this is what they are working on. My new self sees value in the deception of having your research published by another. This unrelated person happily takes credit for your work. If it is disproved, they also take the fall—not only on this topic, but their credibility as a whole. If they are not disproved, you can capitalize on your head start by implementing the technology while others are trying to disprove it.

“Cool, like for a new kind of solar panel?” I’m going to play dumb. They are keeping things from me; I need to keep some things from them.

They both fall for my act. They exchange a glance with smiles and the slightest of head shakes indicating to each other that I must not “get it.” It may turn out to be easier to manipulate these two than I had thought. I guess that manipulating smart people, whether their intelligence is real or perceived, is easier than manipulating people of average intelligence. They think that they are so smart that no one will out-think them. People of average intelligence are wary of being duped and keep their minds on reality, not the perception.

“Not really. It’s some pretty advanced stuff.” Jane is back to focusing on the road, seemingly very proud of herself. “But your mom did mention that you had been working on some kind of power pack. Are you interested in solar power?”

Now she is trying to manipulate me. I’m not used to these mind games; do I let her think she’s manipulating me so that I can continue to manipulate her? Or do I call her out now and tell her she shouldn’t be so obvious?

“Not really solar, but definitely using energy particles to generate electricity.” My answer is honest and kind of vague. I’m going to keep up with the charade.

“Did you ever make any progress on your idea or is it still something you have up on the drawing board?” Cassandra is friendlier than her mother.

“I was pretty close before all this happened.” Also true, but much harder to play games when I think about all the people who have died. “Speaking of which, what are you going to do for power when the grid goes down?”

“We have a backup diesel generator. It will run the lab at full capacity for 24 hours.” Jane is confident that she has all the answers. “If we operate in the most basic communications-only mode, we can run for 48 hours.”

“So two days after the grid goes down, you’ll decide to start worrying about survival?” I can’t believe that they don’t get it. “Or do you know how to drive a tractor-trailer truck and feel comfortable refueling the diesel generator every day?”

There are no answers to my questions. I don’t know if I have spurred a thought in them that makes the future problems more obvious. Maybe not talking anymore helps them enjoy their denial for a time longer. I’m okay with the silence, but it doesn’t bode well for the psyche of these two learned women.

Ames is beautiful. I can see the famous Hangar 1, impossible to miss at 200 feet tall and more than 1,000 feet long. The sign reads “Ames Research Center” on top and “NASA Research Park” underneath. The gate is closed and there are no obvious signs of other people. Perhaps I was sitting in silence to protect my own psyche and not address my fears of encountering human’s intent on harming my family or me.

I now find it funny that I never had aspirations to work in a facility like this. In fact, I never really thought about the future beyond completing my power reactor. In hindsight, I think that I assumed I would make money from selling the reactor or licensing its design. I know Mom could have helped us get rich marketing the technology. Then I suppose I would have built my own lab in a warehouse in Nashua or another southern New Hampshire town and lived and worked around where I grew up. The money would have been nice, but I was never interested in fame.

Jane has parked the car in a space labeled “Crenshaw.” There was no hesitation or even thought of finding another space, even though there are almost no cars in the lot. I want to ask her why she didn’t just drive up to the door of whichever building she works in, but I hold my tongue. Something has to rock her world soon. I don’t think it will come from me.

They both exit the car with purses and laptop bags in hand. Without a word to me, they head off toward a brick non-descript building. Part of me wants to just sit in the car and see what they do. The other part of me wants to get out and explore. This is an advanced research campus. I had become desensitized to the halls of MIT and Harvard, but this is new. There is a new library to find hidden treasures in, labs with different approaches to discovery. There is so much I could do here.

I climb out of the car but do not follow the Crenshaws. It’s a power move to just leave me here alone. They must know that I am dying to get in a lab and start playing. I need to calm down and get control. They want me excited; they want to use potential to control me. Deep breath time. Remember, it’s me versus them. It’s okay to follow along as long as I look for openings on the way.

I jog to catch up with them, but I am too far back for them to even hold the door. It seems like their pace has slowed, but that may be because I want it to. I see them go up the stairs and through the doors at the top. Bounding up two steps at a time, I am just able to see them turn into a doorway. I do my best to regain a little composure and walk through the doors at the top of the stairs. Instead of pausing at the doorway, I walk right in, finding myself in a conference room.

“Sparring with you on the ride was fun.” Jane is leaning on the conference table with both hands, and her tone is menacing. “However, I did not become the Senior Director for Intergalactic Engagement by sparring with 16-year-old hacks. Sit down, Mr. Robinson.”

I’m nervous that once I sit down orderlies will come into the room and secure me to the chair. Once they have me restrained there will be no sense in fighting. I have almost no tolerance for pain and my lack of athleticism is clear. But she is an adult and she is scolding me; somewhere in my head, years of school and classroom experience have me sliding into the closest chair.

“Cassandra and I reviewed your reactor plans four years ago.” Jane might as well be rubbing her hands together like an evil doctor. “The FBI detected a pattern in your Google research that had them worried you were trying to build some type of bomb. During their research, they found enough of your chat room transcripts to guess that you were working on an advanced reactor. They asked us to take a look at your efforts to help them identify if you were just a crackpot or if you were using the reactor as a cover story for something more deadly.”

If they want me off-guard, they’ve got it. But four years ago is an eternity. My work has come so far since then.

“Let me guess. You beat me to my own invention?” I can’t see the point of this performance.

“No. We determined that you were just a crackpot.” Cassandra can’t let her mother have all the fun.

“So it’s a coincidence that you know me, met my mother after the apocalypse and now have me here in your secret lair?” The point of all this is lost on me.

“Not coincidence, but unlikely possibility. My only guess is that there were others who saw some merit in your work. They must have believed that either your thought process or your invention were significant enough to include you in the vaccination program.” Jane continues to look like she has an evil plan she’s about to reveal.

“Well, I’m not sure what your point is.” Now I think she may be bluffing all of her bravado. “Are you upset that there were significantly smarter people out there who understood my work or are you hoping that I’ll teach you what I know?”

“Hah!” It’s a statement more than a laugh. “Son, I think you jumped on the anti-super symmetry bandwagon a little too soon. Cassandra and I are a matter of weeks away from what we think will prove super symmetry once and for all. Just because it’s not as elegant as we had hoped does not mean it’s not accurate.”

“Interesting point.” I have them on the ropes and they don’t even know it. “I had proven super symmetry wrong before I even knew the theory existed. Not only that, but I am days away from building a power reactor that proves I’m correct. I don’t
think
I’m right. I know it.”

“I’ve seen smarter people than you fail,” Jane interrupts.

“Hold on, it gets better,” I say. “Pretty soon, you are going to lose power. Unless you let me build my reactor to supply your lab with electricity, you won’t be able to complete your work to see that you were wrong. So really I’ll get to see you proven wrong twice.” Smug works very well for me.

“I think your doom and gloom are misguided.” Jane has been knocked down a peg but she is not giving in. “We have our own power plant and generators. We are not going to lose power.”

As if on cue, the lights in the conference room go out. I wish I had been near a light switch so that I could have done it just to mess with her, but this is better.

“Well, good luck getting your power plant back online. Or maybe troubleshooting that generator you have been touting will be easier.” I rise from my seat. “I’m going outside to wait for my family. Once they arrive, we’ll get out of your hair forever.”

I walk out the door full of self-confidence. I’m the James Bond of nerds. I just went head-to-head with not one but two NASA physicists and won. I go down the stairs two at a time, the same way I went up. I push through the door and out into daylight. Even this late in the fall, the California sun is warm and comforting. I walk casually across the parking lot towards the gate; I plan to wait on the other side.

“Seamus, wait!” Cassandra hurries through the door. “You know how suspicious it seems that our two families met up? What does it matter? My mother and I didn’t get to make the decision on who was in the program and who was not. We certainly didn’t cause this virus to be released. I’m sorry we don’t know the right way to act.”

“Well, I never spied on you and your mother.” I am only stopping long enough to fully close the door on this experience.

“We never really spied on you. I was handed some data and asked to evaluate it. I was never told that there would be consequences to my analysis.” She is shaking her head. Maybe she is tired of the lies and deception, too. “We’re a little old for this, but I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Cassandra is looking kind of coy. “Scientifically speaking, of course.”

“Facts only, no opinion?” I would like to see what they have.

“Facts only.” She holds out her hand to shake on it.

The three hours in front of the white board have been a battle. In addition to me being rusty from a few days away from hard-core physics, I’m sure that the two concussions I received are not helping. Additionally, I am not a formally trained physicist; I’ve generally taught myself. Some of the language and approaches Cassandra uses take time to adjust to, but I am quick to adapt.

Even though it has not been easy, it’s fun. It’s like finally being able to talk with another fan about our favorite team. There is not a lot of arguing, per se, but we stop to remind each other of facts that we consider obscure or potentially in doubt. Cassandra is very intelligent and well-spoken. I’m a little surprised that Jane has let Cassandra run the discussion, but as I watch her face, I think she may be struggling to keep up.

I’m pretty sure we are nearing the end of her presentation and there are only one or two areas that I would like to debate. They have done solid work, but inherently I know it is flawed. I can see how these particles go together, and my tests have proven me to be correct. There must be one big assumption they are making that I can grab onto and show them it is wrong.

The honk of a car horn startles me more than just a little. The Crenshaw’s seem unfazed. I wonder if they even consider the possibility of paramilitary groups or other bad people being alive? Apart from the roadblock, I have no reason to fear other people, but it’s still in my mind that we are not alone. Even a hint of caution from Jane or Cassandra would make me feel just a little bit better. Instead they remain emotionless and show no physical reaction.

“I believe that is your family arriving,” Jane says with a quick glance to her watch. “Would you like to take a break and go retrieve them?”

We don’t need to spend any more time on their flawed theory. I am going to show them the basis for my power reactor. I’ve never shared this with another person before. My thinking is that if I don’t have it implemented in the real world, I shouldn’t write it down as fact. But the truth is I will have it implemented in a matter of days; of this I am certain. Cassandra and Jane will always remember where they were the first time they saw this formula.

“I’ll go get them in a second,” I say as I walk to the whiteboard and grab a marker. “While I’m outside, though, I would like you to spend some time thinking about this.” I’m writing on the board quickly but in full control. The long and highly complex equation is completed fast and without mistakes. Before stepping back and moving my body to reveal the whole thing, I look at it in awe. It is beautiful; I am a genius.

After my self-congratulations, I walk towards the door to leave. I feel good knowing I am the smartest person in the room. In a physics throw-down, I just schooled them.

“But wait.” Cassandra is stopping me. “We said no opinions.”

“That’s all fact.” I’m focusing on her, not even looking at the board.

“Well then, it’s not reality.” Her smirk makes it clear that she thinks she has me. “There is no point in sending the amount of energy needed to generate this reaction to infinity.”

“What if it results in a bell curve?” is all I have to say to send them scrambling. “Why don’t you run through this for a while. I’m going downstairs to let my family through the gate and we are going to walk around a little bit.”

Like so many other geniuses and “experts,” Cassandra and Jane have been blinded by science. They have taken long-standing limitations and assumptions as fact. They are so smart they were never naive enough to ask what would happen if they questioned a long-held limitation. As a child inventor, I always considered the power coming out of the wall as limitless. When I started putting my ideas into mathematical equations, I always had the energy used to start a reaction move to infinity. After countless experiments and swapping of variables, I found the one element that would create a bell curve for the release of energy. You get more power out then you put in. In fact, as the energy input trends to zero, the energy output trends to infinity. So once you get the reaction started, it is easy to not only power itself, but to take excess power out.

Outside, it’s no surprise that Dad found a way through the gate. He has parked the Escalade next to Jane’s Mercedes. He had no idea what building we were in, so he couldn’t get the car any closer to us. When they see me, there is no mad dash to meet up. It’s only been a few hours, but I’m worried that they think I have been brainwashed.

“How was your morning?” Dad is looking at me for signs of something being off.

“We went in the Pacific Ocean!” Liam can’t contain his excitement and starts talking before Dad is even finished.

“Cool. It’s cold up here in Northern California, isn’t it?” I know I have to get Liam taken care of before I can really talk with Dad.

“A little bit. But it was still kind of awesome.” Liam is smiling and sees something off in the distance that he wants to explore.

“Everything okay?” Dad again.

“Fine, I guess.” I’m not sure how to explain the morning we had. “The drive down got a little weird. We eventually switched to nerd mode though, and have been talking physics for a few hours.”

“Is there anyone else here?” Dad is not relaxed.

“I haven’t seen or heard anything suspicious. The truth is, though, we went straight into a conference room and haven’t really come out.” Now I’m a little edgy, thinking about commandos.

“I’m going to poke around a little bit.” Dad turns to survey the gate and parking lot entrance.

“I wish you would stop it with this S.W.A.T. thing you are trying to do. You have been on edge all morning.” Mom is clearly continuing a conversation that she and Dad have been having. “If anyone wanted to capture you, they would have done it by now.”

“Stop being so simple-minded.” Dad is not having a conversation, he’s ending one. “The major from the roadblock said he had sent survivors to rally in San Francisco. Sofie and Remmie are proof that people who were not vaccinated could have survived. Do you want to throw away your efforts to get us in the program by not protecting ourselves?” He heads off to the first building in the circle. For some reason, I won’t feel safe until he does.

“Mom, why are you and the Crenshaws so confident that we are totally safe?” I can’t help but engage her on how she has such a different perspective than the rest of her family.

“I wouldn’t lump me and the Crenshaws in the same pile.” Mom is smiling a little. “Jane and Cassandra seem to expect a bus or airplane to arrive any minute full of people who are going to take care of everything. It’s as if they believe a score of government employees are hiding out in bunkers around the country, waiting for some signal it’s safe to come out. They may be right, but I doubt it.”

“Well, what do you think then?” She hasn’t covered her point of view yet.

“Me?” She looks at the ground. “I’m with your father that most everyone is dead. I differ in the fact that I’m not afraid of survivors. If we find someone alive, they are going to be scared and hungry, like Sofie and Remmie. There are no black jumpsuits that want to dissect our brains.”

She was a little dramatic with the “dissect our brains” comment, but I agree that this is Dad’s fear. A fear I share. We have proof that people could survive the virus, and Jane thinks I may have been secretly vaccinated against it. Anyone with half an ounce of delusional power would see this as an opportunity. I can’t speak for Dad, but from my perspective, even if someone
didn’t
engineer this, the opportunity could create a villain.

“Maybe if you’ll agree to be a little more cautious, we can agree to be a little less...” I can’t think of the word to finish my thought.

“Militant?” Mom finishes for me.

“Fair enough.” I don’t like the word but it probably fits. “I’ll talk to Dad about toning it down with the guns if you’ll agree that we should at least keep them nearby?”

“That will probably make us all more comfortable.” Mom is smiling at me. “Thank you for bailing us out as usual, Seamus.”

“Have you spent time here with the Crenshaws?” I want to know what Mom knows about this facility.

“Honestly, Seamus?” She thinks I am continuing our discussion about being afraid of people.

“I’m just looking for a place to set up my lab.” My face shows my innocence. “So far, all I have seen is one conference room. I thought that if you had spent time here exploring you might know of a good place for me to work.”

“Oh.” She looks sheepish. “I thought—well, never mind what I thought. I have not spent any time here. They told me it was pretty isolated and boring. I have been staying back at their house, sitting by the fire and reading good books.”

“So instead of looking for people, maybe you can help me look for lab space?” I’m walking towards the Escalade. “I want to check on my equipment so I can also see if there are any components that need replacing.”

I step up on the tire and pull myself up to the roof rack. It only takes me a second to pop the closures on the carriers and flip the top off. Inside is a shambles. Not only does it look like every motherboard and hard drive has been broken into a 100 pieces, any plastic has been melted. My lab is ruined. I don’t know what the impact will be on developing my reactor. I always said the technology was just tools and the invention was all me.

It’s not the end of the world. I need to act, or more importantly, react, like an adult. An adult who has just lost almost ten years of creativity, sweat and sacrifice. Everyone else may see this stuff as just computer parts or garbage, but it was my whole world. “Disappointment” doesn’t seem like a strong enough word. On the other hand, “devastation” seems overly dramatic.

“What’s the story?” Dad is back from surveying the perimeter. “Need a hand unpacking your gear?”

“Nope,” I’m going to try for upbeat. “It’s all junk. Looks like whatever didn’t melt in the fire got trashed in the crash.”

“Oh Seamus, I’m so sorry.” Mom comes to my side and puts an arm around my shoulders. “I know that lab represented years of scavenging and hacking. You worked so hard on each and every component.”

“I guess I have to try and think about the good news.” I look at both of them. “My code was all backed up on the network and there is nothing in these carriers I can’t replace with a little hard work. Instead of putting together another hack-lab, I get to build an awesome new lab.”

“A positive attitude is going to come in handy a lot in the coming months.” Dad has his hand on my shoulder. I guess this gesture has replaced the hug now that I’m an adult. “It’s okay to be disappointed, but moving forward is key. Do you want me to find a Dumpster for this stuff?”

“Paddrick! Give him at least a minute to be sad.” Mom slaps him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, why don’t you just throw the carrier and everything right in. That stuff is from the old world. I want to build something for the new world.” Now I see opportunity in front of me.