The Quantum Brain (Pulse Science Fiction Series Book 2) (10 page)

The fires burned in the distance licking between the scorched buildings and reflected off the windshield of Mark’s Honda Civic. Mark kept swallowing. He couldn’t seem to clear the dry lump from his throat. Watching the fires rage out of control in the center of Chicago was not helping him.

They had lost the ability to control the damage and now most people were inside or underground hiding. They were hiding from the forces of the universe.

Mark shook his head. He hoped that worked out for them. Ever since the announcement from the Marlo-Pitts observatory, the globe had gone into panic mode.

Mark had figured it out sooner. He always figured out things sooner. Sometimes he told people. Sometimes he let disaster strike and then swooped in with the prepared solution like a god. It was his job security. Seeing it first and being prepared was how he made himself indispensable for the people he worked for.

He used to warn them ahead of time, but sometimes they didn’t believe him. Or sometimes they didn’t appreciate his fix because he stopped fires before they started.

Mark swallowed on a dry throat again and spoke out loud to his empty car and the light flickering across his windshield. “Sometimes you have to let things burn for a while, so people appreciate the man that brings them the water.”

Mark had planned to use this fire for himself. He had timed the calculations, out timing each gravity wave that passed through the Earth down to the microsecond. Now he even had the force ratios figured down to the thousandth of a G force.

The final gravity wave was going to be huge. It was going to enter the Eastern Hemisphere with crushing force and exit the Western Hemisphere, with its greatest intensity surging through North America. Cities were going to fly apart. People could hide, but no one could stop it. Three stars had collapsed in a rare, grand cascade and this was the last crest in what amounted to a gravitational tidal wave – crushing as it entered the Earth and flying away as it exited.

The sun would survive, if Mark’s calculations were correct, and they always were, but there were going to be more fires in the cities on the Earth before it was all over.

Mark almost quietly made it to the execution of his plan without a hitch, but then one astronomer in one observatory in Colombia of all places figured it out too. And he warned everyone. For all his perfect calculations, Mark was almost foiled by roadblocks and curfews, but he had made it to the base of the Conrad, Decker, and Rand Research Facility one last time.

He looked at his watch and in a moment of panic he thought he had forgotten to wind it. The second hand was still moving. He forced himself to take slow, even breaths.

Mark reached over and patted his laptop in the seat. It was armored and shielded in the event of any electromagnetic pulses. If the gravity wave melted down a reactor or blew up something else big enough, ordinary computers would be toast. He had not taken this inside during his last visit. This was for him.

Mark had another shielded computer and a UPS battery backup at home. It was better than the portable one in the car, but Mark didn’t want to have to count on driving back through the city after the damage was done if all roads were blocked. A simple plan was the best.

He supposed his plan was not technically simple by most standards, but it was as simple as something this unprecedented of an event could get.

Mark put his hand on top of the laptop. He needed to secure it after he handled the car. The computer was armored, but that wouldn’t help him if it flew into the Stratosphere.

He held his hand on the closed back of the computer for a moment longer like he might be reconsidering the whole thing. The moment of hesitation scared him. If he didn’t follow through now, what did he think he was going to do? This was bigger than diverting funds through backdoor viruses though. Even that had made him throw up the first time he did it. Now, each week longer he went without getting caught, he started to believe he was uncatchable. This was the next step in that trail.

He took his hand off the computer and stepped out of the car. Mark left the driver’s door open and leaned down to pull the lever to pop the trunk. As he walked around to the back, he heard sirens in the distance. Some of the firefighters had shown up to work. If they were smart, they would be hiding or doing something like what Mark was attempting.

He pulled the trunk open and saw his reflection distorted up and out in the gold plate of the helmet. Mark swallowed, pushing the helmet and suit aside to get to the chains underneath. Mark dumped one chain with spikes on both ends out into the street on the passenger’s side. If there were any traffic, it would be a dangerous obstruction.

He was not particularly strong and struggled with the weight of the chains and device, dragging them along the curb to the front of the car. He looked up at the reflective glass on the high-rises above him. On any other day, someone would call the police or Homeland Security about some guy dragging chains and a tube that looked like some sort of launcher. He actually laughed out loud and coughed as he caught his breath. No one was watching, and the ordinary days had ended for the world.

Mark heaved the chain up over the hood and showed his teeth as he heard it scrape. The heavy links were definitely scratching through the paint, but that was a small concern. He rested the point of the spike against the concrete of the sidewalk with the launcher aimed down.

Mark pulled the trigger and the impact thundered out through the empty street as the spike impaled the cracked concrete and hooked in deep. The launcher kicked loose of the spike.

Mark nodded. “If I was designing weapons, you guys would be in more trouble than you already are, mortals.”

He walked around to the passenger’s side and fed the spike on the other end of the chain through the launcher. He rested the point against the asphalt and fired to another roll of thunder. Mark held the launcher at his hip as he used his free hand to work the crank on the side of the spike, tightening the chain until one of the windshield wipers cracked under it.

Mark sighed and moved to the open trunk. He heaved the second chain up from the street and tossed it over between the hinges of the open trunk and the back window. He fired one spike into the street before walking around and blasting the second into the sidewalk by the back tire. He cranked the chain tighter until the car lowered to its shocks closer to the ground.

“We’re all getting a shock soon,” Mark said.

He looked at his watch and his eyes went wide. He was cutting it close.

Mark hauled the astronaut’s suit and vest out of the trunk, leaving the helmet. The boots wouldn’t budge. He heaved one boot up and over the bumper. His whole frame shook and he felt something pop in his lower back.

He gasped for air and dropped the boot on the asphalt with a clunk. Mark fell to his knees with his sweaty face next to his license plate. He shook and sucked in air. Thick saliva dribbled over his lip in a long string of drool to the ground. He tried to absorb the pain, but it wouldn’t let go. He gagged and fell to his side, staring at the heel of the white boot with a gold-colored sole.

“I need the gold shoes to capture the gold mind.”

The material encased lead and other alloys that were key to the execution of his plan. At the moment, they were the key to his suffering in the last moments of normal gravity.

“Get off the ground, you coward.” Mark coughed and choked on his own words. “Get up and be the man … be the god you were meant to be.”

Mark forced himself back up to his hands and knees. His back cramped into a knot and he paused, staring down at the wet spot of his drool on the grey street. This was not the kind of work an IT guy was supposed to be doing. The truth was, Mark had been more than that for a long time. He had been lifting things that weren’t his and covering his tracks. Up until this moment, the lifting had all been electronic.

He had considered going for lower hanging fruit. In the confusion, there had been more than a little looting. He could have walked out of jewelry store with a handful of something. Some of them were sitting broken and open. More would be after the final gravity wave left the world to recover from the damage. The bank managers had probably sealed the vaults up tight, but a few would be compromised by the sheering forces of gravity that the doors and locks were not designed to withstand. He could just sit in his car chained down to the pavement and step out to grab the low hanging fruit once it was all over. There was no telling what shape the world economy would be in once this was over, or law enforcement either for that matter. The dollar might collapse, but people would still value jewels.

Once the jewels were traded in for food, he would be broke again. Mark wasn’t picking low hanging fruit. He was going for the tree of knowledge of good and evil on the twentieth floor of CDR Research. He was flying up to the top branch to pick the forbidden fruit. His power was in his knowledge and his ability to predict what others could not see. This gravity wave was part of that, even with Marlo-Pitts sending everyone into a panic.

“It” was up there.

“It” was a quantum based processor, utilizing photon entanglement interconnectedness to achieve faster than light processing speeds.

Mark would have “It” too. Once he did, he would be able to predict what was coming next. He wouldn’t be trading jewels for food. He would be predicting famines and plenty like God, profiting like a pharaoh over every turn of the market – maybe the lottery too. There was no upward limit to someone that knew how to use “It” properly. Mark was that man where others had failed before him. They failed to see and failed to realize. Worst of all, they had failed to act. Mark knew what to do. He had been planning and calculating since the day they contracted Mark for IT trouble shooting at CDR. He had solved their problem and installed his custom spyware. Mark had run across “It” like the Holy Grail or writing on the wall from the hand of God. Mark knew what to do with it and he would be able to read “It” like interpreting dreams.

The government had commissioned CDR to create “It” before Mark was ever contracted on. Dr. Kell thought he was doing pure research, but the Q1 project was always intended for the government, Mark had found. The thinkers and tinkerers at Conrad, Decker, and Rand had made “It.” “It” was going to do exactly what the government needed with steering and commanding their drones. “It” could do that and so much more. The one crime “It” committed was doing the one thing the government could never tolerate: “It” dared to think too much. They passed on “It” at first, but Miles Decker had reupped the negotiations after Hazel Conrad’s death in one of the mini waves. The government still wanted “It” for themselves after Decker’s coaxing. They wanted to possess “It,” so that no one else could have “It.” CDR was obviously and rightly proud of what they created. So, custody of “It” was likely to be tied up in court for years from what Mark had gleaned through his data access to CDR’s systems. These were the secrets Decker was hiding as he purged Conrad’s computer. They had fought one another to an ongoing stalemate, giving Mark the time he needed. Decker was moving on to his Q2 masterplan. Mark was going to take what he needed.

The universe had given him the rest, but time was running out.

Mark forced his back up and straight. He shook with pain and thought he might wet himself. He kept fighting and stood. Despite every warning from his body against it, he hauled the second boot up and out of the trunk. His face was purple and his whole body shook as he set the second boot down next to the first.

He gritted his teeth and unzipped the modified astronaut’s suit vest. He looked up to the twentieth floor. “One small leap.”

He laughed. His voice shook from the nagging pain in his back and echoed back in the emptiness of the street. The noise sounded crazy to him in his own ears. He knew in his heart that he was calculated and sane. His ethics were of his own design and not bound by the gravity of other men’s moral mass, but he was not crazy. He made himself stop laughing, so he wouldn’t have to keep hearing the nervous, lunatic echo.

He braced one hand back on the open trunk and slid his right foot, still in his black sneaker, through the unzipped suit into the bulky boot. It held heavy to the ground and actually helped him keep his balance as he stepped into the other boot. He was not looking forward to trying to step into position.

“One disaster at a time.” He whispered.

He was hearing the lunatic laughter again as he looked around for the source. It took him a couple beats to realize it was him again.

He did not have time to be calming himself anymore, so he didn’t bother.

Mark zipped up and sealed the suit and vest clips. He flexed his hands inside the fingers of the thick gloves. Mark made a fist and bounded the body armor he had strapped over the chest of the suit. He felt nothing from the impacts and the reinforcement protected his wrist as well.

He held his breath and forced his left foot off the ground with great effort, turning it to the side. The braces in the suit protected his back some, but did not help all the pain. He took a couple heaving breaths, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Then, he lifted and twisted the right foot, setting it back down with a thump.

Mark looked down at his wrist, but then realized he couldn’t see his watch through the suit anymore. He had not planned for everything, it seemed.

He grabbed up the helmet from the trunk and twisted it into place over his face. He raised the gold visor and then slapped it back closed, hiding his identity.