Matrix Man (16 page)

As Corvan and Kim stepped into the elevator, the doors slid silently closed behind them. "Thank you," the elevator said softly, and accelerated upward.

Corvan watched the digital readout over the doors grow progressively larger until the elevator came to a smooth stop and the number "42" flashed on. They had arrived.

As the doors slid open, they were greeted by a rather unusual man. One side of his face was a mass of scar tissue while the other was completely normal. And although the upper portion of his body was broad-shouldered and quite muscular, the lower part was encased in a black box. A wire led from the box to a flat black temple stud. Like the walker used by Warden Waller, this prosthesis required an implant to make it work. As the man moved forward, Corvan heard the whine of a gyro stabilizer and realized that the black box rested on a single tire. The man grinned and held out his hand. "Rex Corvan. We meet again."

Corvan was embarrassed. Like most reops, he met thousands of people each year, but this one drew a blank. But wait a minute, there was something familiar about the undamaged side of the man's face. Then he had it. "Chris Saxon!"

The other man's grin grew even wider. "You've got a good memory, Rex. I looked a lot different the last time we met."

Corvan nodded soberly. What the other man had said was true. The last time they'd met was at Vandenberg Air Force Base. Saxon had been commander of the first multinational expedition to the moon, and Corvan had interviewed him, along with the other members of the lunar team.

But that had been before they reached the moon, before the disastrous fire in Lunar Dome Two and Saxon's now famous efforts to rescue those trapped inside. He'd succeeded, but at tremendous cost to himself. Besides the burns to his face Saxon had suffered extensive internal injuries and the loss of both legs.

Corvan remembered the drama which surrounded Saxon's return to Earth, the occasional news stories about his painful recovery, and realized that he hadn't heard or seen anything about the man for a long time. Corvan brought a hand up to his eye cam. "That makes two of us. I looked different too."

Saxon chuckled. "I know. I'm one of your fans." When Saxon turned, the entire black box turned with him. "And this is Kim Kio. Hi, Kim, I'm Chris Saxon."

Kim found herself smiling as she shook Saxon's hand. There was something about him which made that easy to do. She hadn't recognized him at first, but she certainly remembered his heroism and did her best to ignore the black box. "Hi, Chris. It's a pleasure to meet you. How did you know my name?"

Saxon's smile disappeared. "That's a long story, Kim. Let's go to my office. We've got lots to talk about."

Corvan looked Kim's way as they followed Saxon down the long corridor, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. Saxon's unicycle made a soft whirring noise and left a deep track in the plush carpet.

Kim noticed that both sides of the hall were graced with large high-quality blowups of Mars, Venus, Saturn, and the other planets of the solar system. They were beautiful, like gems set in black onyx. She found herself wanting to reach out and touch them.

A huge door slid aside at Saxon's approach. Corvan saw a large office with wall-sized windows. Beyond the glass, other skyscrapers crowded in all around to block out the bay and turn the office into a sort of fish bowl. Even late at night, squares of light showed that other people were up and working, some turning to see what was happening across the street, all of them no more than sixty or seventy feet away. Saxon must have felt it too, because he said, "Curtains," and they appeared from both sides of the glass.

"Have a seat." Saxon indicated two of the three guest chairs, and rolled into the spot where a fourth would normally sit. "Go ahead and light up if you want to," Saxon said, looking Kim's way, "although you really should give them up."

This earned Saxon a dirty look and caused Kim to dig through her purse until she found one. Corvan spoke as she lit up.

"No offense, Chris, but it's been a long day. How 'bout telling us what's going on? You're with die Exodus Society?"

Saxon nodded. "That's right. And in a moment I'll tell you what's going on, or what I've heard, but you go first. We've been watching you—that's apparent by now—but I'd like to hear it from your perspective."

Corvan looked at Kim and she shrugged. "Go ahead. You probably kept a lot of it from me anyway."

This was unfair, but Corvan didn't care to pursue it in front of Saxon. So he smiled and his eye cam whirred as he turned the other way. Quickly and concisely Corvan told the other man everything he knew, starting with the Canadian raid and taking it all the way down to their ride in the plumber's truck. At times Saxon would nod knowingly or add some comment like "We lost you during the whole barge farm episode," but most of the time he was silent.

And then, when Corvan was all done, Saxon shook his head in amazement. "You two have been extremely lucky. Frankly, I'm surprised that you're still alive, and very thankful. Together we might be able to do something about this mess."

Saxon placed his elbows on the sides of his black box and steepled his fingers. "My part of this goes back a number of years, to the time when I got out of the hospital. It took three years and twenty-seven operations for them to put me back together—if you call this together. And when I finally rolled out of the hospital for the last time, I wanted—no, needed-something to do, and the Exodus Society was the obvious choice. It supports the very thing I'd built my life around, the exploration of space, and was willing to take me on. I suspect they saw me as sure-fire fundraiser at first, you know, the crippled hero with no legs but both hands in your pockets. But whatever the reason, they gave me a chance and I took it."

Saxon gestured to the office. "I earned this by working hard and making things happen. Right now I'm number three in the organization's chain of command, with every intention of making number two this year and number one somewhere down the line. I tell you that not out of ego, but to assure you that I speak for the entire organization, and that what I'm telling you the truth."

Kim blew out a long, thin streamer of blue-gray smoke. "I believe you, but as Corvan can attest, I'll believe just about anything."

Corvan winced but didn't look her way. "All right, so give, what does the Society know about all this?"

Saxon nodded and his eyes focused on a spot somewhere over Corvan's head. "Like you, we didn't know a thing about it until the WPO's raid and Frank Neely's death. At first we assumed the whole thing was just another episode in the WPO's ongoing efforts to destroy our organization. The two organizations are natural enemies. We want change and the WPO wants the status quo to last forever. They're making money hand over fist. That's why they work so hard to link us with the Underground."

"Well, aren't you linked with the Underground?" Corvan asked, automatically activating his record function.

A red indicator light began to blink on and off in the armrest of Saxon's black box. He smiled. "One of the nice things about my body is the fact that they were able to build all sorts of electronic goodies into it. Like the one which says that there's a sufficient amount of electromagnetic activity in your vicinity to indicate some sort of surveillance, or in your case, out-and-out recording. Fine. Record all you want, and when I'm finished, use it in anyway you choose.
If
you think it's wise to do so."

Corvan nodded, only slightly embarrassed.

"So," Saxon continued, "in answer to your question. Yes, we are connected to the Exodus Underground, and find it useful for our organization to have a somewhat schizophrenic personality. Were it otherwise, the WPO would have had a much easier task isolating and then destroying our organizational structure."

At this point Saxon leaned forward in his box, the intensity of his gaze leaving no doubt about his devotion to the Society's cause. "But remember this, Rex, even if they destroy the Society's structure, they'll never kill its mind or soul. That's safe in millions of minds and hearts all around the world. Rex, we must succeed. We must get a third of Earth's population into space or die trying, because if we don't, the weight of our own numbers will crush us."

This last part was right out of the Society's countless public service announcements and brochures. Part of Corvan's mind nodded in agreement, but a substantial portion stood back, folding its arms and refusing to be swayed. He was a reporter, after all, and reporters are objective, especially on assignment. And without a doubt this was the biggest story he'd ever tackled. It was time to get Saxon back on track.

"So you didn't know anything at first," Corvan reminded him.

"Right," Saxon said, leaning back in his box. "We didn't know anything until Neely died and passed you that disk. We thought he was just another one of the countless eccentrics who flock to our cause. While we value their support, they can be a source of trouble."

"How did you know that Neely passed Corvan a disk?" Kim asked.

"Oh, that was easy," Saxon replied. "We have a rather sophisticated television studio of our own. We recorded the input from both of Rex's cameras and subjected it to intensive analysis."

Corvan and Kim looked at each other with the same thought in mind. If the Exodus Society could do it, so could the WPO and the government.

"Yes," Saxon agreed as if reading their minds. "It's now obvious that the government did likewise. In fact, it's safe to assume that they found a way to monitor your editing activities. That would account for the mysterious fire in Kim's editing suite and the unexpected death of her friend Mel Ryback."

"He wasn't my friend," Kim said, sharply dropping her cigarette butt into an expensive vase. "But he didn't deserve that.''

"No," Saxon said smoothly, "I'm sure he didn't. In any case, based on the disk and on the government's sudden interest, we started watching you as well. At first we couldn't make heads or tails out of the whole thing. Then we got a phone call, a very strange phone call, and one which I think you must hear for yourself."

Saxon looked toward a distant desk as he spoke. "Audio playback. Security code CS 4191."

A moment passed, followed by the hollow sound of a long-distance line and Saxon's voice: "Chris Saxon."

The other voice was computer-simulated, a high-quality simulation but a simulation nonetheless. It could be heard in clipped formality of the computer's words. "Greetings, Mr. Saxon. I would like to speak with you regarding a matter of extreme importance."

Saxon's response was annoyed. "I don't have time for computerized sales calls. If this is something more, say so and be damned quick about it."

"This is something more," the computer responded evenly. "It is a matter of national security."

"National security?" Saxon said doubtfully. "In that case you should call the FBI or someone like that. Who are you anyway?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if the other party had never anticipated such a question and was formulating a response.

"My human interface was uncomfortable around computers, especially those which approach sentience, and called me by a variety of names. However, my programming informs me that those names are considered to be profane. So, since I have no wish to offend you, I shall use a name that my human interface respected. You may call me Martin."

When Saxon spoke, his voice conveyed both impatience and curiosity. "Okay. Who's your human interface?"

"I am sorry to inform you that my human interface is no longer alive," the computer named Martin said dispassionately. "However, his name was George Manley Hawkins, and until recently he was president of the United States of America."

 

 

 

12

 

 

Corvan jerked upright in his chair. "The president of the United ..."

Saxon shook his head and held a finger up to his lips. The recording continued to play. Saxon's voice was angry now.

"I don't know who put you up to this or why, but it isn't funny. The president is one of the finest men alive, and he is alive. I saw him on television yesterday afternoon."

"You are wrong," Martin answered evenly. "The president was assassinated by Carla Subido one week ago. What you saw yesterday was a computer-generated likeness of the president saying what she wants him to say. There is an actor as well. A man with a marked resemblance to the president, who is seen coming and going, but never stops to speak with the press. I repeat, the president is dead, and someone else is running the country."

Kim looked at Corvan, her anger momentarily forgotten. The video matrix generator! From Corvan's expression she could tell that he had the same thought.

"That's ridiculous," Saxon's voice said scathingly. "The president is fine, and this is some sort of sick practical joke. Good-bye."

"This is not a practical joke," Martin insisted calmly. "And I can prove it."

Corvan could sense Saxon starting to break the connection, then hesitating. "How?"

"As a member of the Exodus Society's executive council you have the authority to use certain facilities. Among them is a highly sophisticated and largely illegal complex in Omaha, Nebraska. It has the means to trace this call. Do so and you will find that I am telling the truth."

Saxon was silent for a moment as he thought it over. Then Corvan heard him say, "Hold on," followed by the sounds of a call going through. A male voice answered, demanded and received an authorization code, and listened to Saxon's instructions. Seconds later he dropped off the line.

He was back two minutes after that. "Mr. Saxon?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but our equipment is screwed up. I traced your call, but it can't be right." "What can't be right?"

"The call, sir. According to our equipment it's coming from the White House in Washington, D.C."

There was a long silence as Saxon took it in. Then he cleared his throat and said, "That's impossible. Have someone overhaul that gear right away. Thanks for trying."