Chapter 8

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"What the hell do you expect us to do?" demanded Sarah. "We barely know how to use these things."

"You're better than anything else we've got," responded Willy grimly as he strapped her into the cooling chair. Over his shoulder, Sarah could see Rad typing passwords into the console, apparently opening a connection to the multinet from the normally isolated servers at the ranch.

Dr. Lee burst into the room. "Don't tell me you're connecting them now! It's too early."

Willy clenched his jaw and looked at Rad.

"Really doctor, what's the worst that could happen?" demanded Rad without looking up from his console.

"You've heard about that girl in California who killed her family when she first connected. We need to stage this process carefully and—"

"Your advice is noted. Return to your station in the clinic."

"Willy, what's going to happen to me?" asked Sarah. Run! Run away Sarah! She heard her mother gasping.

Willy was checking the restraints on Michael's cooling chair, which faced hers. "Nothing's going to happen, Sarah."

Michael was sitting still, staring at the ground. "We'll be fine, Sarah," he said, just before Willy slipped a rubber mouth guard between his teeth.

"Connect them," ordered Rad.

Willy took a hair-thin network cable and leaned down behind Michael's immobilized head. After a moment, a green light set into the headrest flicked on. Michael's eyes rolled up inside his head and he shook violently in his restraints.

Willy stepped over to Sarah's side. "I'm sorry you have to see that, Sarah. It's just a normal muscular reaction. Nothing to worry about."

"No, no! Please, Willy!"

Willy hesitated. Rad stepped over from the console and forced strong fingers into the sides of Sarah's face, forcing her jaws open. He shoved the rubber mouth guard between her teeth. Then he seized the network cable out of Willy's hands. "Connecting Fenton."


***

Tracy Cruz stood up in frustration at her CEO's statement. "Eric, there's no way we're going to get that regulation changed, energy crisis or not."

Eric stood up behind his desk. "Dammit, Tracy, we need these changes or the whole pipeline will go under. You're our in-house lawyer. Get it done."

"For the regulatory changes you want, you don't need a lawyer. You need a miracle."

"I could hire three roughnecks for what I pay you. You'd better get me some results, or I'll find a better use for your salary!"

"You know what, Eric, you don't need to threaten to fire me anymore. Because I quit."

Knowing she would regret it later but too incensed to care, Tracy pushed her way out of Eric Romero's spartan office and into the cinderblock building that housed it. She ran a hand through her raven black hair and looked around her. Only four of the dozen desks were occupied, and those staff members were staring intently at their computer terminals, evidently trying to avoid her. They must have overheard the shouting from Eric's office.

Tracy marched out of the Kerrville, Texas headquarters of Southwest Pipelines Inc., and over to the crowded rack where she had parked her bike. Not many people could afford to drive cars anymore, whether electric or gasoline powered. The Hurricane Reactor had just been a prototype, and its destruction had virtually no impact on energy production in the United States. But its failure meant that future energy prices would be high, which drove up prices in the present.

Or that's what the official story was. From her perch within the legal department of a small oil and gas pipeline company, Tracy had seen a lot of strange activity in the refining and logistics markets. She couldn't prove anything, but it seemed that there was a new player in the industry that was intent on pushing prices sky high. It was using front companies to manipulate the market by creating pipeline bottlenecks and regional product shortages. She had tried to document the activity well enough at least to build a case she could present to official investigators without being laughed out of town. But Eric's demands for her to focus on lobbying the government to relax regulations on costly environmental protections for oil transport had prevented her from making much progress.

That wasn't her problem anymore. Someone else would have to figure it out. She rode her bike two miles down the dusty I-10 highway towards the truck depot where her husband Ricardo worked as a mechanic. The highway was lined with all manner of commercial storefronts. Many of them were empty, and a few were boarded up.

There was a time, in the days when her paternal grandparents had immigrated from Mexico, when Kerrville had profited from the American natural gas boom. But the wells had been depleted in the late 2030s. Since then, the city had fallen back on transportation and logistics. It was positioned along the I-10 highway and further benefited from the presence of several oil and gas pipelines that linked coastal ports and refineries with inland markets. Of course, so was nearby San Antonio, which got the bulk of the work, but the bits flowing to Kerrville had kept its economy afloat. Now even that meager source of revenue was drying up.

She remembered her childhood, when riding a bike down this stretch of road would have seemed suicidal because of the densely packed big rigs speeding by. But now there was plenty of open asphalt for Tracy, and she didn't even bother to signal before turning into Ricardo's workplace.

"Hey babe," said Ricardo as he climbed down from inside the engine compartment of a tractor unit. He turned his gaze from her to survey the lot that was mostly empty. "Funnily enough, things still aren't looking good in the trucking world."

"Ricky, you're going to have to keep this job because I just quit mine."

Ricardo put his hands on his hips and stared down the empty highway. "You quit?"

"Sorry, Ricky. I couldn't take another minute of Eric. That man can't see beyond his own beer gut."

"You always go and act rash without thinking things through, Babe" said Ricardo, shaking his head and still staring down the road.

After a few moments, he looked back and smiled. "I guess that's why you came back to Kerrville and married a grease monkey like me. I guess that's why I love you."

She leaned closer and put an arm around his muscular shoulders. It had been crazy of her to marry him. But she'd never regretted it for a moment. "We still have each other, Ricky."

"And we still have the Lord looking over us. He's helped us get through worse. Remember twenty years ago when we were in high school? High energy prices are bad, but starvation's a lot worse. I saw the evil in men's hearts back then. But the Lord showed us the way to feed ourselves, and he'll show us the way out of this crisis, too."

Tracy shrugged. "I thought it was science and technology that created the food labs, not divine intervention."

"Careful, babe. That's your mortal hubris speaking. The Lord inspired those scientists, and revealed the technology to them."

"Sure, hon."

"All those fancy schools you went to messed up your thinking so you can't see the obvious truth." He hugged her with his forearms, holding his greasy hands away so he wouldn't soil her clothes. "I gotta get this rig back on the road by five. If I were you, I'd go down to the church and talk your situation through with Doc."

"Sure, Ricky. I'm volunteering there for the kids' program tonight anyway."

He was silent and tense. She apologetically kissed him goodbye and hopped back on her bike to head towards the church.

When she arrived she found Doc sitting on the stairs out front, his hunched form and black clothes standing in contrast to the right angles and white façade of the small single story church. He looked despondent and was smoking a cigarette. When he saw her, he pulled himself up, stamped out the cigarette butt, straightened his black-rimmed glasses, and ran a spotted hand through his thin white hair. "How are you, Tracy?"

"I've been better, Doc."

"Tracy, your parents lived long and happy—"

She smiled sadly. It had been three months since her mother and father had passed away in quick succession just a few days after her wedding. "I know, Doc. I've come to terms with that now. But I just quit my job and I don't know what to do. I want to spend more time volunteering with the kids."

"I always wondered why you became a lawyer, Tracy. You don't seem suited to all that confrontation. You're more the giving type."

"Folly of youth."

He held out his hand for hers. She felt his paper-thin skin, saw his trembling fingers, and was overcome with sadness that the strong pastor she'd known in her youth was now so weak.

"Tracy, how would you like to give more back to your community?"

"That's what I just said. I'm going to volunteer more."

"Not just with the after school program. I mean, this whole ministry."

"What do you mean, Doc?" She backed away from him, suddenly not wanting the conversation to go any further.

"I don't have much time left, Tracy."

"Then what are you doing smoking, Doc?" She gestured angrily at the extinguished butt on the ground.

He smiled bitterly. "The tobacco didn't get me. It's terminal liver disease. I guess I've been drinking too much of the communion wine. Whatever the cause, I need someone to take care of my flock after I'm gone."

"I'm not—I mean, how much time?"

"I've got a month or two."

"I'm so sorry, Doc."

"It happens to us all, in the end. Nothing to be sorry about. It's God's plan."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I just told you what you can do. Take over the ministry."

"Isn't there someone... someone qualified?"

"A little backwater non-denominational church like ours doesn't exactly have first claim on newly minted Doctors of Divinity. It doesn't matter. I can't think of anyone more qualified than you, Tracy. You're smart, educated, and well spoken. And Tracy, you'll earn a small stipend."

"Doc, I'm not—I don't think I have enough..."

"You don't believe your faith is strong enough."

She looked down in shame, just as she had thirty years ago when Doc had found her doodling in her Sunday school book or trading love notes with some boy during services.

"You've always blamed Him for making you barren."

She didn't respond. She wished she'd never come here today.

"But maybe that's His plan for you."

"His plan? His plan is to make me suffer? How can you believe there's any plan at all?"

"You've brought joy to so many other children through your work here. Maybe He's calling you, Tracy, to help the whole community during this difficult time."

"If I have so much doubt how can I lead others through—"

Doc leaned in close and she smelled some kind of medicine on his breath. "Tracy, there's a saying that God helps those who help themselves. This community doesn't need someone whose only skill is quoting scripture. It needs a leader with practical skills, the kind of skills you've got from your education and career. Think about it. Your presence here, your quitting today, it's all part of His plan."

Before Tracy could respond she was distracted by a strange yellow glow in Doc's eye glasses. It was followed closely by a thunderous boom. She turned and saw a plume of yellow and red smoke rising up in the distance.

Tracy's mind went back to that horrific night more than a year ago at Hurricane. She saw Anil Dado falling to the buckling pavement as jets of superheated steam melted his radiation suit, scalded his skin, and blistered his lungs. She felt an urgent need to flee.

Her flashback was interrupted by Doc's voice. "Lord protect us, that's the pipeline terminal!"

Tracy stole a glance at her watch. 4:45. The staff wouldn't have left for the day yet. As she ran towards her bike she turned back to Doc. "When I left there were still five people in that office. Are their deaths part of God's plan, too?"


***

In an instant, everything around Sarah disappeared. The room she had been in, Willy, even herself. She experienced a vast nothingness, and a sense of absolute detachment and isolation.

She was totally alone.

She'd been alone her whole life. She knew how to handle this. If this was the worst she was going to face when using her MindWave, there was no reason to be frightened. She took a moment to gather herself.

Then she tried to look around to get her bearings but realized there were no directions. That's going to have to change, she thought to herself.

In the total silence, she focused on her own heartbeat. She heard its steady thump thump. The location of the sound must be down.

If there was a down, there was an up, and a left and right, back and forward. The world now had dimensions, though it was still completely empty.

If she had a heart, and ears to hear it with, she must have a body. She sensed her limbs and trunk, and then her head, coming into existence. She held her hand in front of her face and saw that it was shifting, unstable. One instant her fingernails were long and painted red as she had kept them at the orphanage, the next they were short and unpainted, as she was required to keep them at the ranch. Stay red, she willed. And they did.

If she could see her hands, there must be a light source. She spun around in the nothingness to see a bright sun-like sphere rising above her.

The empty void was disconcerting. She wanted solid ground beneath her feet. She opened her mouth and spoke. "I want the ranch!" In this realm, her voice was deeper and more powerful than in the real world.

She continued pivoting. As she spun, orange dust formed at her feet and spread outwards, at first gradually then rapidly picking up speed.

As the landscape extended in all directions, a clear blue sky opened above. The edges of the orange landscape and the blue sky raced to meet each other at the horizon.

She completed a full turn, coming face to face with the dormitory she had slept in during the competition, with the stream trickling by behind her.

"I want the Lal Orphanage," she said. With a swipe of her hand she tore away the ranch as if it were a sheet of tissue paper. It fell away to reveal her dorm room at the Lal Orphanage. The bunk bed she had shared with countless other girls, made up with its pink comforter, and her favorite pillow. On her desk, her few belongings lay as she had left them the day Willy took her away.

She jumped onto her bed and heard the mattress creak under her weight, felt the rough spun cotton of the comforter on her cheek, smelled the harsh detergent used to wash it.

"I want home," she said in a forceful whisper. She rotated the world, so that where she had been prostrate, she was now floating upright in midair, her bed behind her and the ceiling in front of her. She reached out with both hands and violently tore away the Lal Orphanage.

Now she stood on cracked pavement in front of a small, battered house in a working class suburban neighborhood. The gate to the small, ill-kept front yard hung loosely on its hinges. She stepped forward and slowly ran her hands across it, the way she sometimes fantasized about Michael running his hands through her hair. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she carefully creaked it open.

Just then the front door of the house opened, and a blonde girl of seven years of age emerged, smiling in a bright red dress that was a size too big. "Sarah, it's dangerous outside" called a concerned female voice from inside. "Come back inside and lock the door!"

"Mom?" asked Sarah, reaching one hand to her neck to finger her cross, and her other hand out towards the doorway.

The young girl looked up at the fence where Sarah stood, her smile melting away into fear. "Mom, someone's coming!"

Sarah smiled softly and opened her mouth to comfort the girl. But before she could form any words, scruffy figures carrying knives jumped over the fence from behind her and headed towards the door that the young girl had left open. "Look at that chubby little girl," one announced. "I bet this house is full of food."

Sarah leapt forward through the gateway, her arm outstretched towards the door. "Mom! Mom, get out of there!"

Everything went black.

"Fenton, get on mission." It was Rad's voice. Apparently he could pipe it into her mind while she was using the MindWave. Clearly, he could also see what she was doing.

"What is the mission?" she asked, working to get her emotions in check.

"Go to the Five Mile Creek Pumping Station and defend the servers from attack."

Sarah began to explain she had no idea what Rad was talking about, but before she could form the words she suddenly did know. Five Mile Creek was a central oil and gas pipeline pumping hub that was critical to moving energy around the country. Its delicate operations were controlled by complex algorithms that optimized utilization of the dozens of pipelines that ran through it. Those algorithms were protected by sophisticated security protocols that prevented outsiders from interfering.

Already, she saw an illuminated path through the blackness that would bring her to Five Mile Creek's servers. "Where's Michael?"

"He's already there."

Sarah raced through the virtual space of the multinet, following one thin cord of light and then another. She travelled thousands of miles in an instant until ahead of her, she saw a glowing orb that was the Five Mile server. The orb seemed like it was only a few feet in diameter. She could not see its interior through its softly glowing borders. She pushed herself forward into the luminescent skin.

As she passed through the surface of the orb, she entered a new self-contained space, much bigger than suggested by the small external appearance of the orb. She stood on a flat circular plain of perfectly trimmed grass that stretched for miles towards a ring of high mountains that appeared to mark the border of this world. In the center of the plain was a glinting steel box-like building that seemed to be hundreds of feet long in every dimension.

She jogged to the side of the building and push against its side. It was cold, flat, and immovable. She saw her blue eyes reflected in the metal, and backed away quickly. In this realm she had no real physical presence, just a consciousness. To look into her reflection was unsettling. It was like looking directly into her own soul.

She looked down the length of the building. Aside from a single portal that snapped open and shut in an irregular rhythm, the metal was solid and featureless. She knew, somehow, that this meant the server had few links to the outside world, and the few links that did exist were protected by a powerful firewall.

"Hey, Sarah!"

She turned and saw Michael. He wore a long white robe that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and chest. It was cinched at the waist with a black sash, matching his baggy black cotton pants. He had wrapped a white headband around his forehead, and his unkempt black hair was tied into a topknot. He looked bizarre, but he also looked good.

She looked down and realized she was wearing a black leather body suit, taught over the curves of her figure. Her hair was pulled up in a severe bun over the suit's high collar.

Once Sarah had obeyed Rad's order to begin the

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