Solid State, page 8
Alan raised one eyebrow and asked, “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, it’s space. How can you top that? Shooting off and going around the Earth. What comes after that?”
“I don’t know. The moon, maybe?” He looked at Jane, and she didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt at humor. Alan added, “Look, I’m nervous enough as it is. Let’s just focus on what’s happening and not get ahead of ourselves. All right?”
Jane saw the hired car roll past the entry gate on the driveway monitor, so she excitedly said, “There he is. Come on.” She put her coffee cup in the sink and scurried off, but there was no way Alan was going to let that cup sit there for two days. As soon as his wife was out of sight, he took a moment to give both of their mugs a quick scrub and put them in the dishwasher.
“Alan!” his wife’s impatient voice echoed from the front hallway.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he said as he pressed the Rinse button and sprinted downstairs toward the front door. He had never been so excited about anything in his entire life, and the fact the kitchen was clean kept his zeal completely pristine.
The ancient lake straddling the border of California and Nevada was called Tahoe by the Washoe Indians who had lived there for hundreds of years. The name meant “edge of the lake,” and the seventy miles of shoreline was now home to a dizzying array of lifestyles and cultures. A few of the settlements along the water were the Heavenly Ski Resort on the south shore, the hippy-dippy Secret Cove Nude Beach on the eastern boundary, and the third-rate gambling venues on the northern shore. Indeed, Reno, Nevada had always been a shoddy facsimile of Las Vegas, but Reno seemed like Shangri-La compared to the crumbling casinos of Tahoe’s Cal-Neva state line.
Although the frigid waters of Lake Tahoe and the awe-inspiring mountain views were fairly equally distributed no matter where one was standing along the shoreline, one particular slice of the region was vastly more expensive and coveted than all the others, and that was Incline Village, Nevada, on the northern portion of the lake’s eastern shore.
There were a couple of reasons for the astronomical prices of Incline Village. First, thanks to Nevada’s 0% tax on both income and capital gains, those who drew substantial income from speculative trading or high-paying jobs could be assured of retaining far more of their cash simply by being on the correct side of the state line.
The other reason was that, just as some people are famous for being famous, Incline Village was expensive because it had always been expensive. Wealth tends to attract more wealth, no matter where in the world it resides. Thus, Incline Village was one of the richest hamlets in the United States.
Any home within the town’s borders of Incline Village would be expensive, but even moreso if it happened to possess even a thin slice of actual shoreline, which could provide an unobstructed view of what was widely-considered one of the world’s most beautiful vistas. Kevin Toffler’s home was situated in exactly this fashion, although the shoreline the property included was far greater than a sliver. Instead, Toffler’s home was one of the grandest on the entire lake, and if he actually enjoyed socializing, he could have hosted some amazing beach parties on his own shore.
It was just before dawn, and Toffler’s bedroom looked directly west, all the way to the Sierra mountains on the other side. Each morning, as the sun rose, it would illuminate the water and mountains slowly and gloriously. Such a westward orientation foreclosed any view of the morning’s sunrise, but that was a small price to pay for the dazzling sunsets at the end of each day.
Toffler was sleeping alone, as he had been since Alexandra’s death three years before. It was a cruel coincidence that the magnificent view was aimed precisely in the direction of Donner Pass, where her car had plunged off the side of Interstate 80. The freeway that ended her life wasn’t directly visible, of course, being so far away and concealed by a mountain range, but it was always there, in the back of his mind, any time he looked across the water.
As was the case with most humans, Kevin Toffler’s first moment or two of consciousness each morning was the equivalent of a blank slate. For only a couple of moments, each person is granted the painless, ephemeral emptiness of their own mind. There are no memories, no burdens, no worries, and no distractions. It was like being born again, but only for a brief flutter of time. Then reality storms back into the mind’s vacuum, reminding the person, for better or worse, the present state of their life.
Of course, the reality utterly depends on a person’s circumstances. It could be something all-consuming, like the death of a child that took place years before, or it could be something as humdrum as worrying about a big debt that one doesn’t know how they’re going to pay. For most people, the reality swiftly occupying their mind is typically more bad than good, and the flicker of relief they get each morning is soon crowded out by whatever is top-of-mind from the menu of life’s possible tribulations.
For Kevin Toffler, it was almost always the memories of Alexandra. He had tried to busy himself as productively as possible since the accident, but a shroud had fallen across his personality over the past several years that his handful of friends found impossible to remove. Kevin was never a man that one would have predicted to be a lovelorn. He was never particularly handsome, and he was well into college before he had his first girlfriend. That relationship, as well as the others that followed, had not lasted more than a few months, since his engineering genius was alloyed with a personality that could be politely described as eccentric.
His relationship with Alexandra had been different, however. Kevin was introduced to her by his business partner Thomas Peterson many years before, and she was one of their first hires at InSight. Although fraternization with employees is rarely a good idea, it was almost impossible to sequester oneself in a tiny new company.
At the time, Alexandra was about thirty years old, and Kevin just over forty, but they seemed so well-matched that any snarky office gossip was soon snuffed out by the sincerity of the relationship. It also helped that she had made a respectable fortune following the company’s public offering, which tamped down any ugly chatter about gold-digging.
But that was all history now. She was gone, and Kevin Toffler’s married life was just an unrealized fiction at this point. Added to this, indulging in the life of a rich playboy was as incompatible with his personality as could be. True, his former business partner excelled at that kind of thing. Thomas Peterson was a natural playboy, but Kevin Toffler was a one-woman man. That woman, he knew all too well, had been Alexandra.
While he was lost in these ruminations, still in bed, Toffler’s phone rang, and he knew who it would be. He didn’t even bother looking at the screen. Instead, he just stared blankly ahead and said, “Phone, answer” so the speakerphone would activate.
Out of the device came a voice. “You there?” It was Gerald Flynt, as Toffler expected.
“Yeah,” answered Toffler wearily.
“Everything ready?”
“Yeah, Gerald, everything’s ready. Why are you calling?”
“What’s your problem, Kevin? Did I wake you?” said the voice on the speakerphone.
“Gerald, I don’t need any of your crap right now. What’s going on with Thomas?”
“We finished most of the videos. They aren’t bad. Did you see the first one last night?”
“Of course I did. Everybody did.”
“And?”
Kevin really wondered just how insecure this guy could be, to ask such a question. Was he hoping for a compliment? A positive review? Toffler wasn’t going to take the bait. Instead, he flipped his pillow to the cool side and asked, “What are your plans with Thomas now?”
“He’s not going anywhere. Not for a while, at least. We’re going to keep him here as long as we need to.” The volume of Flynt’s voice kept rising and falling unexpectedly, since these encrypted calls played hell with the clarity of the conversation.
Toffler asked, “Yeah, ok, but how’s he doing?”
“Does it matter? He’s giving us exactly what we need, and we’ll release the videos as appropriate. The one last night was enough for now. What about you? Are you ready for tomorrow?”
Toffler rolled over on his side and shut his eyes. He started to feel like a child again, being quizzed by his father about some annoying obligation. “I dunno, Flynt. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
Gerald Flynt was instantly alarmed at hearing any hesitation to proceed. “Kevin, God damn it, this is no time to get cold feet. Do you really want to spend the next forty years of your life knowing you could have really changed things, but didn’t?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, and he wasn’t going to bother making one up.
Prompted by the silence, Flynt kept going. “You know how this is going to end. Your woman getting crushed to death is exactly what’s in store for everyone else if you don’t….”
Toffler flicked the phone off. He didn’t need to hear any more. Flynt was wrong. He wasn’t getting cold feet at all. This was a decision he had made for himself, though, and not for this group of zealots. After all this waiting, there was only one day left. Now it was time for him to hit the road. The warmth of the bed had been comforting, but now he was on his feet and ready to get moving.
Elizabeth was doing her best to keep her voice down so the kids wouldn’t hear. She really had no reason for concern, since both of them were so focused on their breakfast and their phones that they wouldn’t have listened to their parents even if they were talking in the same room instead of thirty feet away. Elizabeth Wesley said to her husband, “I’d really prefer you just stay home. There’s no telling what’s going to happen after that thing on the news last night.”
Ethan Wesley tucked his notepad into his crowded bag and shook his head. “Honey, honest to God, you worry too much. It’s probably just some crazy publicity stunt. You really think some tech exec is going to blow up the world? Either he’s gone nuts, or someone who’s already nuts forced him to say it. It’s not like any of them could actually make good on their threats.”
Elizabeth took another glance past the wall to make sure the kids weren’t listening and said, “But you heard him. He was talking about real danger. It’s not a publicity stunt!”
“Liz, everyone heard what he said, and what’s changed? What’s really changed? Just relax, honestly, I’m only going to be out for a few hours, then I’ll be back. I bet I’m even home before the kids are done with school.”
“They’re staying home today,” she replied, giving up her attempt to talk any sense into the man.
Ethan’s brow crinkled. “What? Why?”
“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone to be out at a time like this, including you. God, you’re stubborn.”
Ethan wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze. She didn’t hug him back, but she didn’t push away, either. He knew she was worried about him, but he thought she was overreacting to a situation that wasn’t even a situation. He leaned back again and held on to her shoulders. “Toby’s going to be here any second. If I’m going to make a run for this thing, I need to be in all the way. I’ll see you this afternoon. Promise.”
And with that, he kissed her on the forehead, opened the door, and looked outside. Tobias still wasn’t there. Ethan really wanted to get on the road and away from this stand-off with his wife.
Liz crossed her arms and asked, “Is he going to bring you back?”
“No, I think he’s going to stay with Lynn. I’ll order a ride back home. We just need to polish up the speech and check out the venue. Toby thinks we’ll raise about half a million at the fundraiser, and it should get some good publicity too.” Ethan’s phone buzzed and he saw a new message from Tobias.
“OK, he’s here, gotta scoot.” He gave Liz a kiss on the cheek and then shouted toward the kitchen, “See you this afternoon, kids!”
“Bye, dad!” came the two voices in unison. Ethan knew they weren’t about to budge, but it wasn’t like he was heading overseas for a month. In order to get out of the house without letting his trio of dogs push past, he wiggled his way backward in an acrobatic move he’d mastered years ago, and gently closed the door behind him.
Elizabeth stared at the closed door for a moment, uncrossed her arms, and turned to walk back to the kitchen, twelve paws close behind.
Daniel Watts and George Reid had been in the Oval Office for over fifteen minutes waiting for the President to show up. They were accustomed to waiting, as President Wright was typically late, but that never affected their own punctuality. They sat on opposite sofas, and although they were just a few feet apart and alone in the room, they each were leaning forward speaking in relatively soft tones while they anticipated their boss’s arrival.
Both Watts and Reid had been with the administration since the inauguration three years prior, and although neither of them were on the campaign team, the forthcoming re-election tended to dominate conversations lately. Daniel Watts served as the President’s National Security Advisor, and George Reid was his chief of staff. The three of them normally got together with the President at least once a week, and given the troubling broadcast on the airwaves the night before, Watts’ presence was especially important in this conversation.
Both men seemed well-cast in their chosen roles, as each had been involved in federal agencies in some form their entire adult lives. Watts was tall, slender, and looked like a partner at a white shoe law firm in Manhattan instead of a foreign affairs advisor, whereas Reid had the appearance and demeanor of a Pac-Ten football coach. That gung-ho personality, above all other reasons, was probably why he had made such a successful chief of staff for this administration, which had a good-old-boy vibe to it.
Reid leaned forward a little more toward his colleague and asked, “Have any other videos been transmitted?”
The security advisor answered, “No. Just the one yesterday evening, and we didn’t get any heads-up about it. I only got word about it from my staff yesterday after it had already been broadcast.”
“And what about the guy on camera, Peterson?”
Watts heard footsteps coming so he answered quickly, “His assistant said he went missing a couple of days ago.”
The door opened up and President Wright strode in, looking even
more annoyed than usual. Neither Watts nor Reid had ever actually seen their boss smile, except at campaign rallies, although his overall appearance—a wide waistline, a height well north of six feet, and a jowly face—gave him an avuncular look that put most people at ease, smile or no smile. It was clear from his expression there definitely would be no campaign trail grins at this meeting.
“Goddamned Chinese” he muttered as he plunged himself onto the chair between the two sofas where the men were sitting. “We’ve been at these people for six months on this trade deal, and they won’t give us dick.”
“About what specifically, sir?” Reid asked.
“The immigration thing. They want way more latitude about how many of their people come over here to work. Like five times more than we’ve offered.”
The entire topic of Chinese nationals working at U.S. firms was a doubly sore spot for President Wright. For one thing, Martin Wright was never going to win any awards for Sino-American relations, and his hard-nosed stance against China was one of the elements that won the election for him in the first place. And second, he was convinced, without any real evidence, that the principal reason for top-tier engineers and scientists to work in the U.S. at all was to purloin American technology or, as he archaically phrased it, “know-how”, and return with it to their native land.
The President continued, “I swear to God, if we can’t hammer this thing out, they’re going to tamper with this election. Mark my words, boys.”
George Reid tried to get the meeting started: “Mister President, we wanted to review…”
“We’re neck and neck with these people on the GDP. And Taiwan, Jesus H. Christ, I just don’t see a clear way on that one.” Wright pushed himself off the chair and walked over to sit behind his desk instead. At least he had stopped fuming about China for the moment. His two men saw this as an opportunity to give their meeting a clean start, so they swiftly made their way over to a pair of chairs in front of the desk. Watts, the NSA chief, decided maybe he’d try to get everyone on the same page.
“Mister President, I assume you’ve heard about the broadcast last night from Europe. The one with the kidnapped executive.”
“Kidnapped? Are you sure about that?” The President had finally seemed to let go of his rant. “I didn’t hear anything about a kidnapping.”
“We strongly suspect he was, sir”, Watts continued. “Thomas Peterson is a prominent figure in high tech, and he’s exceptionally wealthy. He makes for an ideal kidnapping target, and we’ve received confirmation from his personal assistant that he went missing from the Davos conference two days ago.”
“So did the kidnappers do this video you’re talking about?”
“Yes, sir, we believe they compelled Peterson to do it against his will. Here, if you didn’t see it, just watch this clip from yesterday.” Watts pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the desk in front of Wright. Just before he pressed the play button, Watts said, “The man doing the speaking is Thomas Peterson.”
“The time has come for humanity to turn its back on the technological monster that I’ve been a part of creating. TK 46 tells us that we attribute the social and psychological problems of modern society to the fact that that society requires people to live under conditions radically different from those under which the human race evolved and to behave in ways that conflict with the patterns of behavior that the human race developed while living under the earlier conditions.”
