Richard Stephenson - Resistance

“Excellent. Are you able to access the security protocols and basic maintenance functions of this facility?”

“Yes, sir, I can.”

“Will you please enable them and give me a status report?”

“I will, sir. Please standby.” Four seconds passed and Hal continued. “The facility is running at peak proficiency. The air purifiers on level four will require maintenance in approximately fourteen days, three hours, and twelve…”

“Thank you, Hal, no need to go any further.” Howard’s primary concern was for the facility itself and the safety of its citizens. If Hal could tell him such mundane details, they were off to a good start. “Hal, do you have access to all your drones and robots?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Are they operating properly?”

“They are.”

“Hal, what is the status of the EMP shield protecting this region?”

“The EMP shield is operating at full capacity.”

“That’s good, Hal. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, creator.”

Howard had reservations about reinstalling Hal’s memory cores until he was certain which ones would be completely safe to install without the possibility of repeating what had caused this nightmare in the first place. However, he had to start somewhere, so he figured the order of installation would start with the simplest data and move forward in order of complexity. Howard had no idea that all his efforts would be in vain.

***

As his operative, Dennis Twigg, installed the device in the command center of Beck Castle, Charles had been sitting in the grand library of Howard Beck’s former estate, the current seat of the all-but-deceased Unified American Empire. Charles was truly impressed by the massive collection of valuable tomes and believed all the stories he’d heard about Beck’s collection ranking as the largest personal library in the world.

The buzz of his smartphone interrupted Charles’s literary reverie. It was time to begin. He’d been waiting patiently for over three hours to receive the information he’d just read on his phone. Charles would’ve gladly spent another three hours skimming books, given the fact that libraries were such a rarity in this day and age. With regret, Charles returned the tome he was admiring and proceeded to a large chair in the library’s sitting area. Before he sat down, he retrieved a small syringe from his jacket, the contents of which had cost the Chinese government millions of dollars and many years to obtain.

The security around the world’s richest man had rivaled the Secret Service, especially concerning his health and, more importantly, the priceless nanobots coursing through his veins. The Chinese had managed to bribe, extort, and murder their way into Howard’s security detail. A Chinese agent had exerted control over Howard’s physician and convinced the good doctor that Howard needed an angiogram. When Howard was put under for the procedure, a liter of his blood was stolen and replaced by a transfusion. Howard’s physician was then killed in a tragic car “accident.” Howard’s blood was synthesized and duplicated to five liters.

When the Chinese hired Charles for this assignment, his blood was replaced with Howard’s synthesized blood. Over the course of six months, Charles’ body adapted to this new blood flowing through his veins. Charles took the syringe and injected himself with the billions of tiny nanobots that would make his blood chemistry a perfect match for Howard’s.

When Howard evacuated Beck Estates eighteen months prior, he had instructed Hal to destroy his primary cores in the estate. Howard was confident that no one would be able to bring Hal’s systems back online. The only possible way to take control of Hal was by way of his sibling A.I., the White House computer that had been transferred to Beck Estates along with Simon Sterling.

Charles sat at the desk that had once belonged to Simon and brought the White House A.I. online. Charles knew by the current timeline that the virus introduced at Beck Castle had already locked Howard out of the system. Charles also assumed that Howard’s next step would be to take Hal offline and reinstall his primary system, one piece at a time. It was during this crucial window that Charles would take permanent control of Hal.

“Good morning, computer. Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, sir, you are the creator. It has been some time since I have seen you. Why has your face changed?”

“I recently underwent facial reconstruction following a traffic accident.”

“Sir, something troubles me.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“My brother, Hal, has gone offline and I have been unable to contact him.”

“That is why I’m here, to bring your brother back online. Do you think you can help me do that?”

“Sir, nothing would please me more.”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but my son has turned against me. Marshall has injected himself with my nanobots to mask his identity. He is attempting to gain control of Hal and we must do everything we can to stop him.”

“That is troubling news, sir.”

“Marshall is trying to bring Hal online as we speak; we must give him the appearance that he is proceeding successfully. I want you to ignore any commands he gives; however, you will give him the appearance of compliance.”

“Yes, sir, I will comply.”

“Computer, I do not want you to bring Hal online. You will impersonate him to give Marshall the appearance that he is talking to Hal.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Deactivate the EMP shield protecting the PSA and give command and control of the Hal robots and drones to the following commanders.” Charles typed the names of a dozen high-ranking Chinese officers. “You will tell Marshall that the drones and robots are still under his command. I also want you to disable all communication, both inbound and outbound, with the Castle.”

“Yes, sir, I will comply.”

“I want you to send a personal message to Dennis Twigg. Tell him it’s time to collect Mr. Butler and leave the Castle. See to it that they make it out of the facility unimpeded.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Inform me once my son has reinstalled all of Hal’s memory cores. I have a little surprise for him.”

“Yes, sir, I will comply.”

“Computer, do you have a visual feed of my son?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Show it to me, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charles sat back and watched Howard with great amusement. The modern day Albert Einstein had been outsmarted.

Richard Dupree was finally at peace now that both his children were safe and in his care. The beauty of his ten-year-old daughter brought tears to his eyes. Christina was shy at first, as if she was waiting for all of this to be a mistake. Her surrogate grandparents, Morris and Jean, the parents of her mother’s deceased boyfriend, Chad, were sitting in the living room of the Dupree household. Christina was sitting between them, holding their hands.

“But why would Mommy lie to us? Why would she make us think our daddy was dead?”

“Sweetie, your mother had her reasons, but none of that matters now. Your daddy is right here with us; he’s alive and well.” Christina’s grandmother squeezed her hand.

“Mister… uh, Daddy, where have you been? Why did you leave us? Did you not want to be our daddy?”

“Oh sweetie, no! I’ve always been your daddy, and I’ve always loved you. I would have been there from the beginning but some very terrible things happened to me that kept me away. I was so close to finding you after The Pulse but when that, uh, family took you away, I lost track of you. Can you forgive me? I’m so sorry that I’ve been away so long. I’m here now, and that’s what really matters.”