Richard Stephenson - Collapse

Meredith Beck had developed early-onset Alzheimer’s six years earlier. The diagnosis didn’t upset Howard at all. He simply focused his brilliant mind on curing his wife. The Founding Father of Artificial Intelligence was confident that his genius and limitless resources would prevail. For the first two years, Howard and Hal made great strides in Alzheimer’s research. Their work gave the medical community a ten-year leap in treatment. Howard was tortured by the fact that his hard work did his wife no good. The strides made by the billionaire genius and his A.I. companion were in prevention, not a cure. It was too late for Meredith; she slipped further and further away and Howard was unable to bring her back. The world praised Howard Beck for his breakthroughs; Howard cursed himself a failure.

Meredith frightened Howard as her disease progressed. She would wander around their sprawling mansion in confusion, looking for something familiar to calm her troubled mind. Howard had many rooms in their home converted to exact replicas of different time periods of Meredith’s life. One room was her childhood home. Another room became the first home the couple had lived in many years before. The massive, three story high library was transformed into her university. Howard would quietly slip into each world and hope that he was assigned a role to play. He willingly played the role of uncle, neighbor, and college professor. He only wanted his wife to be happy.

Hal even played his role when Meredith was convinced that the British voice she was hearing was Patrick Stewart. Mr. Stewart had become friends of the Becks and visited their home at least once a year. At first Hal corrected her, which caused her to become very confused and angry. Howard told his A.I. to play along with Meredith and make references to the visits the Englishman had made to their home. When Meredith began to insist that Patrick stop calling so much and just come over and visit her, Howard had no choice but to instruct Hal not to speak within earshot of his wife.

Meredith lost her battle, and The Long Goodbye was finished. Howard had his wife buried in the garden above Beck Castle. She belonged there; no place in the world made her happier. She understood what her husband had accomplished and praised him for his guarantee that mankind’s legacy would survive. Howard and his son were the only people in attendance at her graveside service. Marshall Beck and his father had a very strained relationship. Howard tried his best to be a good father to his son; he tried to in vain to understand the illogical and emotional personality of a child. Howard’s attempt to mold his son into his genius image was met with defiance. When Marshall became an adult and was expected to go out into the world to make something of himself, he had a rough time of it. Marshall thought his father would continue to support him and finance his business interests. Howard did not. Marshall mistook his father’s tough love as being disowned from the family. The two men rarely spoke to each other; with Meredith no longer around to play referee, they both knew they might never speak to one another again.

Howard finally calmed down and ceased his anguished cries. He mumbled sweet and loving affections to his wife and fell asleep beside her tombstone. When he awoke the next morning, he arranged the flowers and sealed them in the climate-controlled container at the foot of her grave.

“There you are, my dear. Aren’t they beautiful? Now you can look at them and be happy. I know you haven’t had pretty things to look at for awhile. I’m sorry for that and I hope you will forgive me.” Howard stood and smiled. “I love you my darling wife. I’m going downstairs for a bit. I’ll come back up and visit with you this evening.”

Howard walked the distance to the Batcave and descended into Beck Castle. He exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to his quarters.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Hal.”

“Did you enjoy your visit with Meredith?”

“I did, thank you.”

“Sir, do you know how long we will be staying?”

“Haven’t decided just yet. What do you have for me this morning?”

“Would you like a status report on the Castle or the usual morning report?”

“Let’s begin with the morning report.”

“Very good, sir. Civil unrest has reached troubling levels in most of the major cities. The Unified National Guard released their quarterly report to Congress this morning. For the first time in two years, statistics pertaining to violent crimes have risen significantly. Curfew violations have also spiked dramatically.”

“Huh. Any explanation for the increase? They’ve managed to keep the pin in the grenade for some time; why did they drop it all of the sudden?”

“Nothing in the report gives any indication to explain the increase.”

“Care to speculate, Old Man?”

“I’m afraid I cannot, sir.”

“Well, keep reviewing the data and let me know if you can venture a guess.”

“I will make it a priority, sir. Shall I continue, or do you have any further questions on the matter?”

“Please continue.”

“Do you recall my prediction on Hurricane Maxine?”

“You mean where you predicted it would make landfall?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmmm. Galveston?”

“That is correct, sir. My prediction was that it would make landfall four point two miles east of the tip of Galveston Island.”

“Are you trying to brag, Hal? Are you going to tell me or not?”

“I do endeavor to impress you, sir. My prediction was the closest to any of the forecast models. Hurricane Maxine will make landfall within from one mile on either side of my prediction.”

“Outstanding, Old Man! I just might let you work part time at The Weather Channel!”

“That will not be necessary, sir. I am content with my current employer.”

“And I am content with you, my friend. Did you send your prediction to the National Weather Service?”

“I did, sir. They did not seem to give it much attention.”

“I will make sure that in the future they pay attention to you.”

“Thank you, sir. Shall I continue?”

“Please do.”

“Wildfires in California continue to spread. Emergency crews have managed to contain the fires to the north and south. Fires continue to spread towards the east.”

“Well, the terrain will see that the fires die out.”

“Correct, sir.”

“How are things at the estate? Anything going on?”

“Everything is running as it should be. Regular maintenance and cleaning are proceeding on schedule with nothing significant to report. Security report is negative.”

“Good, good. What about our route back to the residence? Still blocked by the National Guard in Denver?”

“It is, sir. We will be able to return along the same detour we took to arrive here.”

“Good. That will be all, Hal. I’m going to take a shower and change clothes.”

“Very good, sir.”

Howard walked into his suite and took a long shower. He then changed into a bathrobe and climbed into his bed to get some rest. He awoke an hour later and walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast. While he ate his bacon and eggs and sipped coffee, Howard thought about the state of the world. When he built Beck Castle, its original purpose was to protect Hal and ensure that he would remain online indefinitely. The expansion of the Castle to serve as an ark for mankind was meant as a precaution, to protect the chronicle of human history. Howard never dreamed that he might actually have to use the Castle for something as drastic as housing residents. The thought terrified him. Chaos was the only description that came to mind.

Howard walked to the Operations Center and sat down in his chair. When he pulled himself up to the desk, a one hundred and eighty degree screen that spanned the ten-foot high ceiling came to life. Live video feeds from all over the Castle were displayed. Readouts pertaining to the geothermal power generator blinked and flashed data. Inventories of the food and water stores were in the green. Infrared scans from twenty miles in every direction of the Castle displayed all signs of life.