Simulation: A Pop Travel Novel Page 16

  As he rode in the back of the squad car, Cooper reconsidered calling Geri. Dawson would probably be a better choice. He could take care of alerting Geri and Hasan and bail Cooper out. Geri might leave him to rot, considering her attitude toward him the night before. And no one should be able to take down two FBI agents or penetrate Hasan’s plantation before Dawson could warn them. Cooper grimaced at his helplessness.

  Beasley Hills Plantation

  Albany, GA

  “I think I’ve done it!” Hasan called the women in the kitchen using the house’s vidcom system.

  Shuffling in, Geri squinted at Hasan’s image, then over at Aimee, who welcomed her with bright eyes. The energetic girl was making a tower of pancakes. Such a sweet young maid with too many talents. A regular Snow White.

  Geri sniffed the air. The pancakes smelled delectable, but something was missing. “Where’s the coffee?”

  Aimee held up a finger for Geri to wait. She turned the burner to low and went over to the vidcom to respond to Hasan. “Impressive, sir! I mean, Hasan.”

  “Thanks, munchkin.” Hasan beamed at her, then answered Geri. “Sorry, I don’t have any coffee, Geri. I quit six months ago.”

  “I quit a year ago! It’s so bad for you,” Aimee chirped.

  Geri’s eyes bugged wide. “No coffee? Argh.” Her eyes sank back to half-mast.

  “Maybe the guys in Security have some,” Hasan suggested.

  “Please. Please find out.” Geri climbed onto a stool at the island counter and laid her head on her arms with her fiery hair blazing in all directions.

  “But Geri. Hasan discovered the answer.”

  “To what?” She mumbled without raising her head.

  “It’s okay, Aimee. Geri needs her coffee. I’ll call Paris. Then I’ll come down and show you two my findings.”

  Geri peeked out between hair strands and watched Aimee go back to flipping her perfect pancakes. They were probably in the shape of little hearts. Geri half-expected dwarves to come whistling in at any moment.

  Am I the only sane adult here? Who quits drinking coffee?

  A few minutes later, Hasan entered the kitchen. “Coffee is on the way, Geri.”

  That brought her head up. “Bless you, man. Go ahead and show us what you got.”

  “Great. Let’s go into the dining room.”

  Hasan led the way, followed by Aimee with her high stack of fluffy flapjacks and a jug of syrup, which she probably sucked out of a nearby maple tree.

  Dragging in behind them, Geri plunked herself down in a chair, supporting her head with her fist. It amazed her how Hasan and Aimee buzzed around without coffee. And he’d been up all night.

  “Dining room imager on,” Hasan commanded. The imager projected from the ceiling over the large, dark cherry wood table. Hasan went into a flurry of mysterious mumbo jumbo and hand waving like an enthusiastic magician. His science and number gibberish on the frames, which were filled with formulas and holograms of double helix DNA strands, scrambled Geri’s brain. Her head throbbed trying to make sense of the influx of complicated information combined with a lack of caffeine.

  Geri was hoping he might have a simple explanation. She should’ve known better. Hasan loved to hear himself spout his intelligence. Holding up a hand, she got his attention and he paused.

  “Too much, too early, without my coffee.”

  “Oh, sorry, Geri. I will hold off. And it will give me a chance to enjoy some of these scrumptious pancakes. I forgot how famished I am. Aimee, you continue to astound me!”

  Geri grunted. She couldn’t make heads or tails out of all the data, and it baffled her others could. That made her wonder if others could pry into Hasan’s system and see it, other bad people like his cousin. Not to mention her suspicious friends at work. She hoped Hasan wasn’t connected to the Qnet while he worked.

  “Hasan, this is sensitive, top secret information. Aren’t you afraid of being juiced?”

  While Aimee fussed over Hasan, fixing him a plate, he smiled and answered, “Oh, I have no worries about juicers. I never use the public Qnet. I have my own insanely secure server and my own satellite too, as added measures of security.”

  Before Hasan could hurt her brain by elaborating on that, a guard came in the front door with a steaming carafe of joe and a mug.

  Geri floated over to the miracle brew, carried by its heavenly aroma. “Hallelujah.”

  After taking a glorious sip, Geri smiled and waved to Hasan as she joined them back in the dining room, hugging her mug. Her eyes were a little brighter. “Okay. You may continue now.”

  Hasan had been shoveling pancakes into his mouth. When he realized he was back on, he swallowed, took a sip of juice, and stood.

  “Of course. As I started to say, I first went into the DNA databases using Geri’s clearance to match the sample, as I’m sure that’s what your guys did. But when they found no DNA match in the system, they probably threw their hands in the air and gave up.” He demonstrated.

  “Well I hope they didn’t do that. Give us a little credit.” Geri trusted the guys in the lab, but they did have a lot on their plates. And a complicated case like this would take time, and back up the other cases. She half-smiled and nodded, giving in to his logic. That’s probably why her boss shoved the case in her direction.

  “Given the time and additional research I have done, I played with the strands virtually and cleaned them up so they at least matched other samples from the same specimen. Then I searched for someone in the exhaustive database that came close to that pattern. I narrowed the search by using the data your investigators discovered about him: region, male, age thirty to thirty-five, and estimated height range of six-foot-five to six-foot-eight. I also excluded medical conditions I could rule out based on the report as well. This is the list I came up with.”

  The number crunching on the imager was replaced by a list of about thirty names.

  “That’s a good list. Nice work, Hasan.” Geri stood up and read some of the names, starting at the top.

  Hasan peered at the list over her shoulder. “What do we do now? Start calling them to see if they’re alive?” He was so brilliant, yet so dumb.

  “We can check the obituaries for that. But I can narrow that list down even further by looking up their criminal records, job history, and the like.”

  “I think I may have our man,” Aimee proclaimed after she reviewed the full list of names. She probably had a photographic memory.

  “Are you psychic too?” Geri asked, putting a hand on her hip.

  “No. But when Mr. Cooper spoke about simulations, it clicked that someone probably made a simulation of our John Doe, then disguised the DNA of the body before disposing of it, in case it was found. I have a hard time accepting so many coincidences. Don’t you, Geri?”

  No. I don’t. I don’t want our cases to be connected. Geri pouted. “I don’t know. That sounds like a stretch.”

  “Oh, I think she’s onto something. Keep going, chipmunk.” Hasan scooted his chair closer to Aimee, and he finished his pancakes while he listened.

  “Looking at the list, three of them have no ID, meaning they most likely reside in the Unknown City.”

  “Where nobody knows your name!” Hasan piped.

  Aimee smiled. “Right. And a homeless person would be a prime target to use as a simulation. He would have no history and no one would know who he was, so if he were cloned, no one would notice or complain. But to be an important person, as Geri said he should be from all the trouble someone took to contaminate the DNA, he would have to have a new, identifiable DNA record.”

  Geri scrunched her brow. “I guess that makes sense. But how do you know which of these guys it is?”

  “Hasan, can you do a similarity match up on the list for each of these no names?”

  “Of course.” Hasan did some typing and rearranging, creating three shorter lists with the unknown men at the top and their closest matches below them.

  Then Geri saw it. Important
person Congressman McFarland Wells. An identical match to homeless guy number two. Well, I’ll be.

  “You could have just pointed out his name.”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me without the rationale behind it.”

  “True.” Smarty-pants. Now what? Did Cooper suspect Congressman Wells of being a simulation? Breaking the news to him would be fun, but working with him would be torture. “Hasan, pull up the Congressman’s website.”

  He did. “Here’s his schedule. He’s about to be on a Qnet channel for a live speech at a grocery store opening.”

  “Find it.”

  Behind them on the vidcom, Security beckoned. “Hey, Hasan! Were you expecting a delivery today?”

  “Hold on.” Hasan waved at them without turning around as he watched the drama on the imager.

  A policeman was hauling someone away in a squad car and the audience was cheering.

  “Is this the right channel? It looks more like that cop blooper show, Takedown,” Geri said.

  “No, this is it. I wonder what happened.” Hasan checked the schedule in the other frame to make sure.

  The scene changed to show the Congressman stepping up to the microphone with a big smile. “Sorry about that, folks. I guess one of my fans got a little carried away.”

  The audience chuckled.

  Hasan gasped and pointed at the imager. “Pause the feed!” Hasan zoomed in on the Congressman’s eyes. “Slow-mo,” he said to the imager. He squinted and checked it again.

  Pointing, he made his accusation. “There, see? After he blinks. The slight refocusing of the lenses. It’s him. He’s a simulation!”

  Then the imager flickered out.

  “What’s going on?” Hasan went over to the vidcom, but it was dead.

  Two musclebound delivery guys burst into the dining room with electroguns drawn.

  “Don’t move!”

  “Hasan, get out the front door!” Geri shouted and saw Aimee slip under the table.

  But it was too late. As Geri dove for the big guys’ guns, she saw Hasan crumple to the floor, hit by an electric shot. She fell down in sync next to him. Lights out.

  Washington, D.C.

  Sunday, June 21, 2082

  he Colonel wore one of his rare, genuine smiles. His mood had lightened considerably since the nosey Detective Cooper had been apprehended. He replayed the footage one more time and chuckled.

  He and Wells sat in the State Room at the Mayflower Renaissance Hotel, which suited his impeccable tastes perfectly. The pristine chandeliers, the well-maintained historic charm of the décor, and the attention to ornate details made it one of his favorite meeting locales of his political career. Now he had the crowning candidate who would help him reach his eternal glory. And possibly live longer than God intended.

  While the other guests entered and found their seats, the Colonel whispered their names plus personality tidbits, flaws, and other details, into his three-carat diamond stud tie tack, handed down for six generations of Hamiltons. It had become his trademark and he was never seen without it. Too bad both of Crews’ sons had disrespected their family name by choosing under-educated, unconnected, common women to marry. Women who did not meet his approval and could never carry on their once-proud name. The respected, historic tradition would end with Crews, who intended to go on living for a very long time.

  As recompense for his tremendous failure in properly disposing of Wells’ body, Rajul had offered to transform the precious heirloom into a dual-purposed tool. Now in addition to keeping his tie straight, it served as a microphone for him to feed information and commands directly into Wells’ database without having to use a remote fob. Echo had presented it to him that morning. The first lovely surprise of the day.

  Rajul had his uses. The Colonel felt confident he could proceed without discovery, handling any minor situations that might arise from his lackey’s carelessness. He would keep the electrician around for a while longer. Rajul was very skilled at his profession, but if he failed the Colonel again, he would have to be more closely supervised, or he might become obsolete.

  The Representatives and Senators and their aides filled the hall, and Crews resumed feeding Wells with data. Wells was a perfect example of Rajul’s handiwork. His programming fascinated Crews. Wells’ brain could assess an individual’s mood based on facial expressions combined with readings of their body temperature, breathing, blinking, and heart rate. In turn, Crews was able to pull up the information from Wells instantaneously on his QV. He knew who was lying, who’d been crying, and who’d just had sexual relations. He loved this new toy and didn’t know how he’d ever gotten by without it.

  When the next gentleman walked in and made his way to the front of the room, the Colonel’s smile faded. His accent increased with his annoyance as he spoke softly into the tie tack through gritted teeth.

  “Senator Dawson Cooper. Unbribable, well liked, stubborn, and honest. An overachiever who most likely defecates rainbows. Strike that last. Furthermore, Senator Cooper is against an android police force and all clone android research.” Like unlimited, human-brain-functioning, life-support in a simulation.

  “He is today’s speaker,” Wells stated.

  “That’s right, boy. He and a few lesser dunderheads. But he’s the one we need to break. I briefed you about meeting him and his brother a few weeks ago.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As a young man mounted the podium to introduce the speakers for the meeting, the crowd took their seats and quieted down.

  “Thank you all for coming. I trust you’re enjoying the lobster tail appetizers. Make sure you thank our Maine man, Senator Jacobs.”

  The audience gave a few laughs in agreement.

  The speaker smiled. “Very good. As you know, today we are listening to both sides of the Android Protection Proposal. The Proposal’s intent is to allow city police departments to reinforce their men with androids. It is quite a controversial debate and today’s speakers are ready to engage you as they present their views for each side of the Proposal. First, I give you Senator Dawson Cooper of Michigan. Senator.”

  Senator Cooper shook the young man’s hand as they exchanged places.

  The Colonel had no ear for Senator Cooper’s drivel. Crews whole-heartedly supported androids in every aspect of life. His estate functioned on a small army of them. The world needed more of them, since every generation got lazier and lazier. Everyone complained there were not enough jobs to go around. There were plenty of dirty jobs, but no one wanted to do them. Someone had to, might as well be androids.

  The machines had proven themselves invaluable in the military. They took the brunt of hand-to-hand combat and went where humans couldn’t and shouldn’t go. They detected biological and chemical hazards. And they obeyed orders without question. The Colonel, using Wells, helped draft this Android Protection Proposal to authorize more androids to be used as special police force units, starting in the major cities. To aid and defend those who protect and serve. And to get people even more used to androids for the rest of the ideas the Colonel wanted to propose. He needed the public to accept androids as trustworthy and valuable, indispensable. Most importantly, he wanted to pass a law allowing him to install his magnificent brain into a clone android body so he could live beyond his natural years.

  The Colonel rolled his eyes as Senator Cooper rambled. He knew all about the conservative Senator’s opinions. Senator Cooper feared androids would take over more lazy human jobs. The Senator agreed they were good for hazardous situations, but humans needed jobs. What Senator Cooper refused to concede was that many future jobs would be created in android research, production, training, and repairs. And Senator Cooper failed to see the real problem—the bottom layer of humans dredging on society.

  That brought poor, dead McFarland to mind. Crews could’ve made something out of that boy, but the lad couldn’t handle the necessary sacrifices. None of them could. Again he lamented the drive to win was something that couldn’t be tau
ght.

  Like some of his fellow supporters of the Proposal, Crews opened his QV in flat mode to answer a call, while pretending to listen. Instead of the normal holograph, a two-inch square frame hovered over his wrist imager with Rajul’s face, and the sound came through his earpiece.

  “I have Hasan and one of the women who infiltrated my office yesterday; the redhead. She was with him at his plantation and she had an FBI badge on her QV.” Rajul held up the woman’s wrist imager with the badge displayed. “It looks real, but that’s all I can open on it, so far.”

  The Colonel glanced at it, then refocused on Senator Cooper as he whispered down to the diamond tie tack, sending his words to Rajul. “I will think on this and call you back. Don’t go doing any of your ridiculous experiments on them and don’t let them get away. Close.” His final word cut their connection and any protests from Rajul.

  Glancing at the picture of the seductive-looking woman sparked an idea.

  Crews called Echo, forwarding him the woman’s badge with her image. “Talk to me about this Agent Geri Harper.”

  Echo quickly scanned the Qnet and summarized his findings, “Geri Harper, born in Savannah, Georgia, army brat—”

  “I’m losing patience, Echo. Fast forward to the recent and remarkable,” he said through gritted teeth. The Colonel hated having to be so literal with his machines. Echo should know better by now, but robots just didn’t have intuition.

  “Sorry, sir. Yes, sir. Her record of five years ago indicates an honorable discharge from Army Intelligence. Then she was recruited by the FBI. Her first case was the most remarkable, uncovering the Pop Travel International scandal. The only published information about it involves her previous boss, Ed Spurlock, who was fired after the internal investigation for his involvement in the cover-up. Soon after that, he was imprisoned for disclosing classified information in a candid interview on a tabloid show. He intended to clear his name, placing the blame on Geri Harper, describing her as a rogue agent who should never be trusted. All other information and details are restricted.”