Peter Prellwitz - Shards Book One

I was halfway through my second cup of coffee before we finished the daily details and she left to start the day's work. She closed the door behind her, knowing I always took ten minutes each morning to read my Bible. My attachment to NATech didn't allow me the pleasures of a public life, but I refused to surrender my faith. Janet understood and kept people away during my devotion.

I finished reading and put the Book away. I still had about twenty minutes before Chris would be out of his facilities staff meeting, so I fired up Mike, who had finished his download. Getting into my thinking mode, I folded my hands in front of my mouth and steepled my forefingers and pinkies, a habit from high school. Mike pinged.

"Greetings, Mr. Wyeth. Today is Thursday, March 26, 2026. The time is 7:17 AM.? I'd tried various ways to have him address me, but they always reminded me of those holochannel shills, so I had settled on a formal greeting.

"Good morning, Mike. I've got a few scenarios to run through with you. Ready?"

"Of course I am,? he said with just a trace of impatience in his tone. It had taken me weeks to program the perfect blend of irreverence, camaraderie and superiority into his voice, but the final effect was worth it. He reminded me of an impertinent, headstrong teenager who acted like he was always right, and thought you were a bit slow in the head, but liked you anyway. He usually was right, too. I was thankful that he wasn't real. A real teenager would rub my nose in it. I hadn't programmed that kind of response into him. I liked a challenge, but I wasn't a masochist.

"Okay, let's play underwater for awhile.? I reviewed my ideas about genetic enhancement and imprint substitution, comparing them to his conclusions. I then rattled off some transportation, economic and political assumptions, mixed in several disaster scenarios, then asked for results based on various external stimuli such as global war, space colonization and a planet-wide political unification. He took in all my requests, then ignored me, which wasn't a programmed response; he was just too busy running the computations to listen to my prattle. I closed him up and stuck him in my suit pocket.

"John!? Chris had a big grin for me as I stepped into the conference room. The meeting was just breaking up, his people running off to take care of the latest problems, challenges, and ideas that had been thrown at them. Good people, all. Many had smiles for me, which I returned, knowing an indifferent stare from the boss never helped anyone.

"Morning, Chris. Janet said you've been yelling for me. What's up?"

He didn't say anything, but waited for the room to clear. After the last one out closed the door, he sat on the edge of the conference table.

"I did it,? he said with a finality that indicated he was looking for a knighthood.

"That's great, Chris! Now tell me what you've done, and I'll say it again and mean it.? His cryptic comments were never as clear as he thought, but I was guessing he was referring to his webbing project for the globenet.

"What I've done is perfect the mental interface. It's now possible for the mind to initiate and maintain direct communication with a computer for up to two minutes."

This time I was impressed. That project was supposed to be only sixty percent complete by this point.

Chris Young might be irritating sometimes, but he had few shortcomings when it came to brains. I whistled.

"That is great, Chris! Give me the details on the way to the gym."

We talked it over for the next fifteen minutes while we changed in the lockers and waited for a mat to open up. We always got together twice a week to wrestle and keep our bodies in shape. Our turn came, and we walked out to the floor.

"Your team did a top notch job, Chris. You should be proud of them."

"Yeah, they're a pretty good bunch.? We took positions.? Especially Charlene,? he added with a wink and sly look.

He did it to get my goat just as we started, and it worked. His arm slipped inside mine. He snaked it up my back and I felt his hand latch onto my throat, pressing me back. I was on my way down by not paying attention. He relaxed, knowing the first throw was his.

Instead of resisting, I gave in to the pressure. Just before hitting the mat, I wrapped an arm around his right ankle and folded his leg up. I landed on my back and rolled into his left leg. It came out from under him, and he landed beside me.

"Geez! How do you do that?? he complained good-naturedly.

"Practice,? I replied, rising swiftly to my feet and squaring off.? Practice and experience. You had the advantage, Chris, but you relied only on it. Next time, follow through."

"All right,? he said, and closed quickly on the attack. It didn't work, of course, and this time without the surprise, he took the trip to the mat by himself. I was four inches taller than his five foot nine height, and twenty pounds heavier than his one-eighty. It's always hammered into beginning martial arts students that size didn't matter if you knew leverage and pressure points. That was true, unless your opponent was larger and also knew leverage and pressure points. The Ethiopian Campaigns were eight years behind me, but you never forget how to use the tools that saved your life.

We sparred for another twenty minutes, but I had to cut it short because of my appointment with the boss. I did have one more point to bring up with him, though, which I did in the showers.

"Janet's getting irritated with you again, Chris,? I said as we toweled off.

He turned from the mirror and grinned.

"Sorry, John. She's a nervous kind of girl. You know I don't mean anything."

"It's not what I know, Chris. It's what she thinks and how she feels. Lay off her."

"I'm not doing anything, John! You lay off me!? He had a flash of temper, which I tolerated and appreciated in most my people. Having a temper usually meant you cared about something. Controlling that temper meant you cared a lot.

Chris was right, though. He wasn't doing anything overtly, covertly or implied. And though I sympathized with Janet, the fact that she just didn't like him wasn't grounds for discipline.

Chris laughed after his outburst.

"Sorry, John. Okay, I'll play nice. She gets under my skin, though."

"Fair enough, Chris. I'll let her know we talked."

We parted, and I headed for my meeting with the boss, Mike comfortably tucked in my suit. I entered the express elevator, used my key and code, then headed at high speed to the boss's office, twenty floors straight down.

The elevator slowed abruptly, then stopped. The door did not open, and I waited for it. Right now, about twelve different kinds of scans and identity verifications were being performed on me. The heart of NATech was on the other side of that elevator door, and we took drastic measures to protect him. If the computer program matched me up with who I claimed to be, I'd keep breathing. If it decided otherwise, I'd be flambe of Wyeth when I stepped out of the elevator and into the defense field.

The door opened without fanfare-or indication of whether I'd? passed? or not-and I walked into the boss's office. There was no receptionist, no secretary, no administrative assistant. He accomplished everything through his Senior Project Leaders, sharing with us his endless knowledge and insight. As he dictated, so NATech went. He was waiting for me, and while he didn't rise from behind his desk, he gave me a warm smile.

I'd worked here now for eight years, and I still didn't know the name of the guy I called my boss. He was middle aged, perhaps sixty, and still carried a full head of black hair. His eyes, which were normal other than always having the glint of a happy and curious five year old, were protected by bushy eyebrows that seemed to be even thicker than his hair. His face was seamed and craggy from carrying the weight of our planet's future on his still straight shoulders.