Theocracide A Virtual Reality Thriller

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 Appropriate for Teens, Intriguing to Adults

Immortal Works LLC

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© 2012 - 2018 James Wymore

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“Mind boggling. The scariest thing is I can see this
happening.”
CHARITY BRADFORD (AUTHOR; THE MAGIC WAKES)

“Seldom do you see anything that might just be as

readable a century from now as it is today.
Theocracide really shines in its treatment of relevant
modern-day issues, plotting and character
development. In a way, it felt a lot like Ender's
Game in terms of its levels of intrigue and depth, but
without all the stupid little geniuses.”
THEA GREGORY (AUTHOR; THE ABACUS PROTOCOL AND ZOMBIE

BEDTIME STORIES)

“Intense and gritty”

SAMUEL PETERSON (COMPUTER PROGRAMMING ENGINEER)
“Wymore weaves a fantastic tale while taking a
good hard look at religion, politics, immortality,
entertainment, and technological advancement. If
you're looking for a thrilling sci-fi adventure that
beautifully mirrors current real-world issues and
advancements then this is the book for you.”
ANDREW BUCKLEY (ACQUISITIONS MANAGER AND AUTHOR; DEATH,

THE DEVIL, AND THE GOLDFISH)

“5+! I think of this book often... The writing is

gripping.”
DAWN PETERSON (BOOK CLUB PRESIDENT)

“The world Wymore has created is interesting,

smart, and a little scary because it’s so believable.
The idea that we become so addicted to the
immediate access of information and social media
that many never leave the house isn’t necessarily
fiction. But this is more than an entertaining
science-fiction read. Wymore is able entertain
philosophical debates about religion, politics,
morality and liberty throughout the telling of
Theocracide without taking away or distracting from
the story. It was so refreshing to read a really well
done Science Fiction story.”
TIFF KNIGHT (BOOK REVIEWER, WALDRON PUBLISHING)
For my son and my father
UNDYING EMPEROR TURNS 240

Millions of Americans tuned in to watch the celebration yesterday as

the Undying Emperor turned 240 years old. Fireworks filled the sky
after independent scientists did blood tests again to verify the age
and DNA of our immortal leader. Almost one thousand people
physically came to the White House for the party of the year. Several
of the most famous bands played while the Emperor danced with the
newest First Lady.
“His youth and vitality are a miracle, which blesses us all,” said
Bishop Americanhorse, the new Religious Advisor, on the Undying
Emperor’s cabinet. Bishop Americanhorse recently replaced the late
Bishop Peoples, who died after serving as the Religious Advisor on
the Undying Emperor’s cabinet for over thirty-six years. The
appointment was part of the birthday celebration, which lasted for
hours, available via live computer vid to every American, anywhere
in the world.
One soldier in the Undying Emperor’s service overseas said, “It
brought tears to my eyes. Knowing a living God chose to walk
among us, and guide us, makes me proud to serve the same great
man my father and grandfather fought for.”
Police arrested a few online protestors after they tried to set up
chat rooms to petition the government to end American involvement
in the war. One police officer said, “It was really pathetic. There
always has to be somebody who just can’t let people be happy and
enjoy life. We will deal with these heretics quickly. We were just glad
their actions were futile, because so few people joined their protest.”
The Undying Emperor closed the festivities with an inspiring
speech. “This occasion is a celebration of our solidarity. It is through
unity of purpose that this country grew to greatness, and with
continued unity I will carry us not just another two hundred forty
years in to the future, but another two hundred forty thousand
years.”
With 96% of the country tuning in, this represents the most
watched program in history.

Willing his feet to remain silent, Jason Hunt concentrated on the

ground as he weaved between the outstretched claws of the tree
branches. The lens on his computer helped him see despite the
heavy blackness of night. He deliberately lifted each foot higher to
avoid rocks and roots, which looked deceptively flat on the computer
projection screen wrapped around his face like glasses. He controlled
each breath so the tiniest sounds would not give away his position to
the people hunting him.
He recognized the welcoming gesture of a large tree with wide
branches ahead. He slipped around it, quietly leaning his heavy pack
against the trunk and pressing in so the tree would support his
weight, letting him rest.
Risking his own safety for a moment, Jason did a quick check on
each of his companions. Jason knew he couldn’t help them now, but
as he rested here, he just wanted some reassurance they weren’t
dead yet. He had to suppress the desire to talk to them, and the
desire to hear their voices. It would be suicide to speak aloud now.
The men chasing them were in the Army of the Undying Emperor.
They would not hesitate to shoot for an instant.
Jason winked his left eye, engaging the user interface of the
computer. The computer then tracked his eye movements as he
raised the sensitivity of his microphone to maximum. The speakers
inside each earpiece of his glasses began to hum as Jason strained
to detect the faintest sound within thirty feet. Hearing nothing, he
lowered the volume, then then pulled the glasses off the front of his
nose so they hung below his chin. Nobody ever removed their
computer.
He stared into the dark sky, waiting patiently for his eyes to
adjust to the near pitch black. Only a tiny sliver of a moon
illuminated the forest tonight, with enough brownish smog wafting
on the air to block out any starlight. The pollution filtered the
crescent-shaped spot of moonlight behind layers of brick-red silk.
Jason’s father had always said something about the moon having
turned to blood, but Jason never understood what that meant. Right
now, he had to exploit the small advantage. His pursuer would never
remove the computer.
Eventually his eyes could distinguish the gray of the trees
through the darkness. Jason quietly peered around the edge of the
trunk serving as his fortress, and scanned the woods. He traced the
ground and every silhouette with precision; searching for any
abnormality. His heart leaped when he spotted the steel toe of a
black combat boot poking out from a tree trunk about forty feet
away. The computer would never recognize it as anything more than
a rock.
Jason pushed his glasses back into place, remaining as behind
his tree as he could so the light from the glasses would not give his
position away. The projected light temporarily night-blinded him.
Jason had to ignore the blur from the tears to blink up his computer
screen, selecting the tree serving as cover for his enemy.
Immediately, a dim red glow highlighted that tree from all those
around Jason. Then, he returned to the main program. He would be
able to find this tree easily from any angle.
 A predatory smile pulled at Jason’s mouth. He loved the
moment when the game turned; when the hunted became the
hunter. He knew his quarry—the highest-ranking R.O.T.C. cadet in
the university. In another year’s time, the cadet and his team would
be fighting, and most likely dying, in the service of the Undying
Emperor. Therefore, the cadet took this game very seriously. For
him, this game equated to more training.
For Jason, this game represented freedom. If he didn’t have a
scholarship, he would have paid to play. His father had been training
him all his life, but Jason never appreciated the value of the training
until he started playing tag.
Whenever two undefeated teams played against each other, the
stress of the game escalated. Adrenaline pushed them to the
breaking point. Whoever won would go on to represent the
University against other teams at the state level.
Jason pitied his opponent as he silently slid a mock-grenade out
of his pack, recalled his memorization of the trees, and squeezed the
grenade. It wouldn’t really explode, of course. It would just send out
a scrambling signal which all the nearby computers they wore would
register as an explosion. Light and noise would fill their senses.
Gauging the distance carefully, Jason tossed the grenade in a wide
arc. Before it hit the ground, he jumped out and started running
behind it.
He clasped his hands together with one forefinger pointing
forward and the other curled as if around an imaginary trigger. The
computer, recognizing the virtual gun, pulled up red crosshairs to
indicate the target. In a real war, their backpacks would have large
guns mounted on electrical motors, which automatically followed the
crosshairs.
The enemy peeked out when he heard Jason’s footsteps. He
took a wild shot before he saw the grenade and reversed to dive the
other direction. Jason pulled his glasses down on his nose and
peered over a small line above the top rim. As expected, white dots
and rumbling noise filled the screen for a few seconds. It temporarily
blinded his opponent, who started shooting wildly in every direction,
hoping for a random hit.
 Jason carefully leaned around the tree. Estimating where the
cross would land, he pulled an imaginary trigger. His computer
showed the image of a bullet hitting exactly where the crosshairs
indicated.
“No!” The young man’s voice roared in anger. His glasses
flashed red; indicating his death in the game. “You would have killed
yourself with that grenade, too!”
“This isn’t war,” Jason said with his slightly higher, but much
more composed voice. “This is a game; different strategies.”
Jason Hunt pocketed the used grenade and quickly stalked
away from his victim. He heard cries of cheating fade as he carefully
blended back into to the wood. Jason smiled because the noise
covered the sound of him quickly climbing two limbs up into a great
ash tree.
Time for another tactic nobody else ever used. His father taught
him to do the unexpected. Exploit the expectation of common
actions in those who never do anything extraordinary. People didn’t
climb trees any more. Most people didn’t leave their houses for
months on end. Fewer had the physical strength or manual dexterity
required to climb a tree.
Jason leaned back into a perfect saddle and clasped his hands
again to pull up the crosshairs. The defeated cadet still ranted.
Predictably, his temper tantrum drew two of his team members. In
the deep night, the faint glow of the computer glasses through
which they viewed the world made an easy target. It radiated like a
tiny lighthouse beacon. The fourth member of their team must have
been defeated already. Jason grinned as he lined up the shot on the
furthest enemy and fired. One second later, his glasses showed two
people flashing red.
“What?” The newest camouflage clad arrival cried in confusion.
“I’m dead!”
The last young man in the clearing tried to jump for cover. The
moment his body hit the ground, his glasses began flashing red, too.
Jason jumped down from the tree quickly. He wanted to keep as
many of his tactics as possible from becoming public knowledge.
Even though his night vision glasses flashed a green border around
the forest scene, indicating victory, he moved back into the woods
and started making his way around the grouping of defeated foes.
Accepting defeat, they began searching the forest for their
enemies. Jason froze and pretended to be hiding on a rock behind a
cluster of quaking aspens. Jason had been all too happy to choose
this park after having won the right to select the battlefield. Most of
the people in the game had not set foot in a real forest before,
giving Jason’s team a huge advantage.
One of the opponents spotted him and pointed him out to the
others. Jason waved, but he didn’t move closer. A flashing black
arrow on the screen indicated the direction to the rendezvous point
so both teams could meet before starting another game or ending
the session. Jason waited. He didn’t want to be alone with three
opponents. In a few minutes, the rest of his team emerged. Like
Jason, they all wore black from head to foot. Then, he stepped out
and walked over to meet the group.
“That shouldn’t count as a win,” the opposing captain barked.
“That would never happen in a real war.”
Jason’s team ignored the indignant grunt. They had each
scanned the stats for the game and saw Jason scored three hits.
Once again, he was the hero.
“So awesome!” The shortest member of Jason’s team was
positively delighted with the win. The team called him Boss. Despite
his clumsiness, they kept him on the team for his contagious
enthusiasm. He was the only member of Jason’s team “killed” today,
but he took one of their enemies out first. An exceptional personal
victory like that made him cheer. “The Snow Cats are undefeated!”
“It’s not a win,” the cadet persisted. His team stood in line
behind him now, refusing to concede. Obviously, they all wore the
same military uniform, and their enormous egos would not let them
admit defeat. “You can’t run up on your own grenade without dying.”
Jason put his hand out to stop his short comrade before Boss
said something to turn this into a fight.
“Dead men don’t call out to their team, revealing the position of
their enemies either.”
 “That’s not…” The cadet stopped short. His team would not
hesitate to back his hypocrisy, but the realization of it took some of
the fire from his heart.
“We’ll play again if you want,” Jason said. “But if we beat you
next time, you have to concede two wins.”
“And we get to be the team who puts Regiment 21 out of the
varsity championships,” added Skipper, another of Jason’s group. It
would mean a great deal more humiliation for Regiment 21 than
losing just once to an undefeated team.
“No deal,” the cadet replied. Since he did all the talking, Jason
assumed he was a higher rank than the rest of his team. The others
hung on his words, as if waiting for the signal to attack.
The last member of Jason’s team, Temple, took a turn. “Then
we have no choice but to submit the video to the judges and let
them decide if your claim is valid.”
Jason winked his left eye. He quickly called up a video feed of
the cadet’s ravings about unfairness, which had accidentally lured his
teammates out into the open. He used his hand to touch virtual
controls only he could see hovering before him in the air. He cut the
segment and pasted it into a file. Then he sent it out so all the
players in the gathering could watch it simultaneously.
The cadet’s posture slumped. He finally realized he had brought
about the demise of his entire team. Without a word, he winked his
controls up and touched the imaginary concede button in the air.
“This is not over,” he growled. “One way or another, it’s not over.”
Jason’s team cheered and laughed while the neo-military group
turned and marched away. Jason regretted making an enemy. In his
heart, he hoped this would teach the cadets no strategy was good
enough to keep them alive in war. Signing up to serve in the military
of the Undying Emperor amounted to suicide. Something told him
these cadets had gone too far to question it now.
“We’re going to state!” Boss crowed. They all clapped each
other on the back and began talking at once.
Suddenly the reverie quieted with the return of the opposing
captain. His hands, posed as a gun, pointed straight at Jason’s heart.
His manic face snarled beneath a real swivel mounted machine gun.
 Skipper tried to step forward and speak, but the wild-eyed
soldier quickly shifted his aim. Instantly the electric servomotors
repositioned the gun so it pointed straight at the young man’s heart.
Then he snapped his hand and the gun above him back toward
Jason. Jason’s team, hands in the air, stepped back instinctively from
the insane captor.
He said evenly, “It’s not just a game.”
ALIEN FLU SPREADING, CLAIMS 60,000 LIVES IN 1 MONTH

The Center for Disease Control reported more Americans died of the
Alien flu last month than have ever died from a single disease in one
month before. The Alien flu, called influenza G(H3N8) by scientists,
mutates so quickly, all attempts to create a vaccination are rendered
ineffective long before any real benefits can be realized. With early
detection and aggressive anti-viral treatment, people can live
through the disease after a prolonged period of illness. The Undying
Emperor has made a statement assuring America, “Every qualified
scientist has been given all the best equipment and facilities to work
on this problem. We are hopeful there will soon be a better way to
treat this virus. While only I will live forever, I hope we will be able
to find the means to improve all your lives through the eradication of
this Alien flu.”
Despite accusations of intentionally spreading these viruses to
weaken human resistance, the Alien Ambassadors have all
maintained they only seek a peaceful solution to the problems
prolonging this war. Aliens, affected by the flu the same way humans
are affected by a common cold, have offered to assist in the
research for a cure. However, the government has refused their help,
asserting the enemy cannot be trusted.
To date, the Alien flu has claimed twice as many human victims,
worldwide, as the Alien wars.

Jason held his hands up. A new wave of adrenaline filled him and
his breath shortened. He could hear Temple offering a quiet prayer
to the Undying Emperor. None of them felt the darkness surrounding
them, because the images projected by their computers onto their
glasses were so bright. Jason alone realized the blackness of the
night.
“It’s more than a game. This is real life,” the cadet said.
The barrel of the gun above the cadet seemed to bore into
Jason’s soul like the eye of an inquisitor. The tiny electric motors
whined to accommodate the constant repositioning of the barrel to
compensate for small movements by the aggressor’s hands.
Jason winked his right eye and navigated a tree of folders in his
computer. Even with his hands up, he had resources. His teammates
tried talking to the crazed loser.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Skipper began.
“It’s just a game,” Boss added.
“We don’t care. We’ll concede it,” Skipper offered.
Temple added another option. “We can play again.”
Jason finally spoke. “If you do this, you’ll be executed.”
The cadet began to close the short distance between himself
and Jason, moving forward slowly. Jason found the computer virus
hidden in his files. He left the button open on his screen, but looked
away from the icon. His father’s utilities were potent: and illegal. He
only had to look at the icon and blink to launch the virus and seize
control of this egomaniac’s computer. It would probably disable the
weapon, too.
Jason hesitated. Launching a computer virus amounted to a
felony punishable by life in prison. If anybody knew he had it, he
would be in almost as much trouble. The cadet moved slowly. Jason
knew his captor had mixed feelings. Heart racing, he decided to try
talking again.
“We all have this on video now.” Jason worked to maintain
sounding more courageous than he felt. “There will be no chance of
escape.”
“Escape from what?” The cadet continued to press forward.
“Nobody’s going to care if I scare the pants off some adolescent
wannabes. I, on the other hand, will get no end of enjoyment from
watching the fear in your faces over and over.”
He took his hands apart and raised them in the air innocently.
Instantly the gun evaporated and the truth dawned on them. It had
all been a computer program. He had patched into their computers
using the game link and projected the image of a real gun, which
had actually never existed.
As he breathed in deep relief, Jason cursed himself for falling for
such a sophomoric prank. His father would be furious if Jason ever
confessed how the cadet had tricked him. He quickly backed out of
the folders he had opened, concealing the illegal computer virus
once more.
“You’re a bad loser,” Boss grumped.
“Let’s just say that now we both have footage the other doesn’t
want to see made public,” the cadet scoffed.
Having gained a small victory of his own, the cadet’s ego began
to heal quickly. Jason, while still angry at the soldier, also sighed
with relief. He didn’t need a new enemy in his life. The would-be
soldier left them. Within a few minutes, the team’s spirits were back
up—though not quite as high as they had been before.
As they exited the game program and walked together out of
the forest, Jason was glad for the momentary scare. It would keep
his team working harder for the next game and curb over-
confidence. As they exited the trees, they each started their regular
computer programs and became individuals again. Jason took a
moment to see the world through each of their eyes. Unless
somebody forbade it, you could use your computer to access
anyone’s live video feed and the accompanying worldview overlay.
With everybody so starved for attention, nobody ever forbade it.
 The quietest team member, Temple, saw the world as a
medieval fantasy. A tiny camera above the left ear on his glasses
recorded every person he saw. It didn’t matter what the people he
saw really wore. In this program, the computer made them look like
wizards, ladies in waiting, or ogres. Jason knew his most somber
teammate thought of himself as a knight seeking to live a life of
heroics in a morally dark age. He spoke only serious words and
readily met any challenge to his honor. Through his glasses, each of
the teammates stood nobly as a knight of the same order. They had
red tunics with an arctic tiger in front of the Undying Emperor’s
cross. Jason, as captain, wore a gold tassel around one arm hanging
next to the tunic. The plate metal armor creaked as they walked.
Great swords hung from each of their belts. Lute music sometimes
rose up in the background. Buildings, constructed from large pieces
of stone with crenelated parapets and murder slits, looked like castle
structures. Cars were all horse-drawn carriages. Whenever his
teammate entered or exited a building, a line of trumpets heralded
the entrance of a great lord.
Switching over, Jason saw Skipper viewed the world through the
eyes of a buccaneer. The trees were all the masts of ships docked
close to one another and the team consisted of tattooed pirates who
sailed under the black flag. Jason noted his own outfit included the
sash of a captain, tied under a belt, which supported a broad cutlass
and a brace of pistols. In this worldview, the shortest mate had an
eye patch and a green parrot on one shoulder. The sound of
breaking waves constantly murmured in the background. This was
probably the most dynamic worldview program of the group,
because whenever Skipper entered a closed room, it became a large
pirate galley, sailing the vast unconquered oceans of the world.
Jason wondered if his teammate liked this particular program
because he suffered from claustrophobia and this view made small
rooms feel much more open.
The last and most enthusiastic of the team, Boss, saw the world
as a stage. A rock star with an electric guitar strapped to his back
walked among an endless sea of fans. The team, of course, filled out
his band. Jason played the lead singer with the other two on drums
and bass. Jason was grateful not to be done up with weird glam
rocker make-up. They had more of a ratty street look Jason could
live with. A constant background of driving drums and heavy rhythm
followed the self-made star wherever he went. Flash pots exploded,
fireworks flashed, and lasers played against the walls. A spotlight
from an unseen source swooped around to highlight their every
step.
Most teams played this game from within their own world-view.
Each of the players used the game as an extension of their usual
fantasy: the knight would see his opponents as enemy archers, and
the pirate would see them all as corrupt British Navy. Clearly, the
neo-military opponents they had fought today all kept their military
training programs running during the games. Jason insisted on his
team playing unmasked. His teammates had protested at first,
unable to believe it mattered what images they saw during the
game. Once they started winning, however, they accepted his
directions and willingly worked within his simple, effective game
construct.
Jason had set his computer to tell him if anybody tried to access
his world-view. It happened only once in a great while. It would
show them an ancient stone stadium wherein he and the people by
him were Greek Olympic athletes. Fabricated to go with his persona
as a scholarship athlete, it satisfied anybody who switched over. His
father, ever paranoid, insisted Jason keep a public face and not
reveal anything personal about himself. It didn’t accurately reflect
how Jason really saw the world. The real worldview he never let
anybody see was much simpler.
In Jason’s world-view, he always played the game.
They approached the rails on which four metal, egg-shaped cars
sat in a line. The soft leaves and branches they were walking on
gave way to crunchy gravel. They all said their goodbyes aloud, the
previous elation gone from their voices.. Jason didn’t want to leave
them. He didn’t want to go back to being alone. Their pace slowed
as they approached their individual cars. They waved and said a few
quiet celebratory remarks.
 “Do you guys want to come over to my apartment and go over
the video feeds from the game?” Jason asked.
“I can’t.” Boss shook his head. “I just patched into my mother’s
vid and she’s not eating. I have to actually go over there and feed
her. Ever since the funeral she’s been impossible.” Contrary to his
world-view, it didn’t sound like something a rock star would say.
“We can all check the feeds wherever we are,” said Skipper, the
would-be pirate. “I need to get some sleep before my exam
tomorrow.”
Jason would still make sure they all went over the vids together.
It just wouldn’t be right now.
They all connected their audio so they could keep talking as the
wing-like doors lifted up to allow them access to their cars. Regiment
21 had parked in front of them, and were already gone. Jason’s car
sat parked in the front of his group and the rest of the team could
not leave until his car, with its train-like wheels, began to roll along
the magnetic rails. The power for the cars came from those rails,
and a buzz of electricity constantly warned people to stay clear of
the deadly current.
Because of the SID box attached to his hip, Jason’s car unlocked
automatically as he approached.
SID was short for security identification. Everybody had one of
these small black boxes taped onto their skin somewhere. Some
people had just done away with the bother and had them surgically
implanted. The computers people lived and died in would not work
unless your SID box signal transmitted within a few feet. The slight
buzzing meant the box had just run a DNA test to confirm Jason’s
identity. An encrypted code verifying his identity then transmitted to
his computer to prevent anybody else from using it. The code also
keyed in to every lock in the world. Any car, house, or business door
he had access to would electronically unlock as soon as he
approached. It made life easier, because you didn’t have to carry
keys or worry about anybody stealing your computer.
At least that’s what they told people it did. The SID box vibrated
softly as it checked his DNA and then emitted a signal to his
computer and any locks around him so they would open
automatically. Without a SID box, you couldn’t use a computer.
Without a computer, you couldn’t drive a car.
In order to speed things up, Jason pulled up his home
coordinates on his glasses and sent the information to the car. Jason
quickly slid into the seat closest to the door and pulled the hatch
down to close it up. With no one in front of him to wait on, the car
lurched a little and then began to accelerate away until the rolling
sound of the metal wheels on the rails became part of the
background. The group of cars stayed together until the first
diamond junction, then each rolled off in different directions. The
conversation wound down as they separately began contacting
parents and other friends.
On the exterior, the cars looked like metal eggs with the smaller
point at the top and small train wheels underneath. The whole
carriage of the car spun freely on a round track of ball bearings
when it went around turns. This helped to make the vehicle more
efficient, allowing the small car to pick up speed on the turns and
use less electricity from the rails. It also made many of the
passengers sick. Rumors indicated they were developing newer
models with a less nauseating, motor driven spin feature. Jason had
never actually seen one.
Jason’s car had two tan cloth seats, which could recline about
halfway back. Though most cars came equipped with two seats, no
one understood why, since the majority of those who left their house
traveled alone. Two thirds of the people in the country didn’t own a
car, and most of them left their house less than once a year.
In the seat next to him sat Jason’s duffel bag. He pulled off the
black clothes his team used for the game and changed into the gray
sweat clothes everyone wore. When he had given his team members
their custom-made, specially ordered black game gear they had
looked at him in astonishment, unfamiliar with clothes that varied
from the usual gray sweats. They hadn’t even known clothes could
come in different colors, let alone different styles and cuts.
Jason had ordered them from a costume company, which
specialized in outfitting actors for movies. He only knew other
clothes existed because his father never stopped ranting about how
dehumanizing it was for everybody to wear the same gray clothes all
the time. He said it looked like they were all in one giant correctional
facility: prison Earth.
As the car glided along the magnetic rails, it slowed to join a
line of cars waiting to enter the freeway. Jason’s father told him
people used to drive their own cars independently with free wheels,
which moved along the road according to how the driver physically
turned and pulled on various wheels and levers. Jason had seen it in
vids about bygone eras, but as computer glasses that filtered the
world became more common, filling more of their sight and
thoughts, the number of automobile deaths skyrocketed.
Eventually, they had to accept the fact that people just weren’t
willing to turn off their computer filters. They wouldn’t stop talking
to friends, playing games, and watching television feeds while they
were driving. The government, led by the Undying Emperor, built the
magnetic rail system and designed a large station to control the cars
remotely. Now, driving was almost like being at home. People sat in
a small room with the same constant flow of entertainment and
communication flowing through the computer glasses. The only
difference with a car was that the government automatically
deducted money from your account to pay for the electricity.
A large countdown timer indicated it would be about forty-five
minutes before he arrived. Jason sighed and muttered to himself,
“Should be there in about two hours, then.” Actual travel time never
matched the estimate. Given that he was so close to his apartment,
Jason surmised there must be an accident or something. If that
were the case, he might still be in this car at sunrise.
Heavy banging on the outside of his car set Jason’s heart to
racing. The booming echoed like large-round gunfire through the
metal egg. Jason sat up straight, took off his seatbelt, and checked
his computer screen. A small, flashing icon indicated the presence of
police officers. His father’s work again. Jason winked off the utility
and pushed the release button for the door. A quiet whoosh
accompanied the hydraulics as the officers slowly pushed the door
up.
 Red and blue flashing lights flooded into the car. An unshaven,
older man stuck his wrinkled, half-bald head into the car. Before
looking at Jason through his wrap-around glasses, he quickly
scanned the car. The wrinkles around his eyes became more
pronounced and predatory when he spotted Jason’s duffle bag. With
the air of a hunter who’d caught his prey, the growling voice
ordered, “Get out.”
UNDYING EMPEROR ADDS TWO NEW TESTS TO IMPROVE AMERICAN
EDUCATION

Because of the recent statistics on American students scoring slightly

below the rest of the world, the Undying Emperor’s Education
Advisor added two new standardized tests to the curriculum battery.
These tests on Alien genetic traits and computer social networking
should help to regain a few vital points on the comprehensive
educational assessments every student must pass at the end of their
youth school training. Any students who have not passed the current
battery of 36 tests before the end of this month will be required to
do remedial work, and take 38 tests before graduation releases them
from their required schoolwork.
The Undying Emperor’s cabinet considered raising the minimum
score for passing as a means of achieving the same ends until
research showed the increased score requirement would cost
millions in re-testing and other facility usage. This alternative plan
will be implemented in order to keep vital funds free for expected
war budget increases. The Education Advisor will re-evaluate the
new tests in another year to determine the program’s effectiveness
at increasing the educational level of America’s youth.

The red and blue lights spinning atop the handlebars of the police
motorcycle cut nauseatingly rhythmic disorder into the darkness.
While, for some of their work, police officers used the same egg-cars
as everybody else, they most often drove fat little motorcycles on
the gravel alongside the rails. The cars only had small windows
nobody ever looked through, or Jason would have noticed the
flashing lights when his car stopped. The night breeze brought a
spicy smell with it. He didn’t know the name of the smell, but knew
it came from the fields nearby.
Jason stepped away from the door, moving slowly to give every
indication of cooperation. Having found something out of the
ordinary, the police officer searched Jason’s car thoroughly. Jason
took a few seconds to wink open an auxiliary safety program, which
masked every illegal file in his computer. It was standard practice for
the police to search through a suspect’s computer. If they tried to
access anything Jason wanted hidden, it would automatically erase
the file in question. Seeing the officer was not in any hurry, Jason
turned off his normal worldview so the officer would not see his
game program. For the sake of show, he now saw the world through
the eyes of an ancient Olympian.
Large marble pillars and carved friezes marked the façade of
every building. People in the distance wore white togas and leather
sandals. Jason had an olive wreath around his head. Nothing could
be more normal than an Olympic athlete standing outside an egg
shaped car, talking to a police officer through rotating red and blue
lines of light.
The policeman had an exemption, of course, so no matter what
worldview people were using, they could only see him as a
uniformed officer. Except he wasn’t really wearing a uniform. He
wore the same dingy gray sweats as everybody else, but through
their glasses, everybody saw him decorated with patches and
medals.. Their program’s inability to alter his appearance to suit their
customized world-view served as a harsh reminder of his authority.
The whole ordeal amounted to a headache for Jason. For as
long as he could remember, policemen harassed Jason whenever he
ran into them. Today, they were looking for somebody. Regardless of
his innocence, Jason knew they would detain him for a long time.
“What’s all this?” the gruff man demanded as he stepped out of
the car holding one handle on Jason’s duffle bag so the black clothes
hung halfway out. In this officer’s opinion, having clothes that
weren’t gray sweats amounted to sufficient evidence of guilt.
“I’m a scholarship athlete at the University. I just came from a
championship tag game. That is my game uniform. I have all the
vids to verify it. Do you mind telling me what you’re looking for?”
“I’ll ask the questions.”
Of course.
Jason held his palms up out of habit. He wouldn’t reach high
unless the officer ordered him to. Through many experiences, he
just found things went better if you made every indication of willing
cooperation. Still holding the bag, the officer ambled toward his bike.
Clearly, he was doing something with his computer and not paying
any attention to Jason. The officer held the bag up with one hand
and pulled the contents out with the other so he could record the
black clothes on his own computer video.
“You play college games on weekends at night?”
“Yes.”
“In the dark. Wearing these black clothes?”
“Yes. It makes it easier to hide from the other team.”
The questions felt ridiculous. Even people who weren’t fans of
the game knew about tag. Jason’s glasses put a small eye icon in
the upper left hand corner of his field of vision, indicating the police
officer had just tapped in to his live feed and examined his view of
the world.
“Apparently you take this whole thing pretty seriously.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on a scholarship. I’m the team captain. Next week
my team is representing the University at the state play-offs. We’re
undefeated.”
 Jason regretted it as soon as he said it. He knew better than to
let his enthusiasm carry him away. His father’s words came to mind.
“Never give extra information to policemen.” Jason watched as the
man invaded his files and searched through logs of recent video.
Despite the illegal search, it had been a long time since anybody
dared to suggest a policeman in the Undying Emperor’s service
might do anything wrong.
“What’s this?” He stopped on the footage of the military cadet
using the pretend gun to scare them all. Jason’s masking program
had erased any trace of the virus Jason had almost launched, but
the cop continued to rewind and replay the same minute.
“We had a report that somebody was in the park with a gun,”
the officer continued. This footage is evidence.” He copied it into his
own files along with every second of Jason’s game and the pre-game
vids. Anything footage featuring the cadet became the property of
the police.
“It wasn’t really a gun. He was just playing a practical joke.”
Jason wasn’t trying to defend the over-zealous opponent, though.
He just knew he would be taken in for an official statement if this
officer wanted to prosecute the sore loser. That could take days.
“Well, somebody not in the game reported a gun and so far this
is our only lead.”
Jason suspected it was probably one of the referees. They didn’t
usually bother to come to the game because they could just as
easily watch it live, or check the vids after. This game was important
enough, however, to have warranted an unannounced visitor who
witnessed the hoax. The officer turned away. Clearly, he had linked
to the police office and become absorbed in talking to somebody
else there.
“I’m uploading some vid relevant to the gun situation. I have
the kid here who was on the business end of that gun. Says it was a
joke.” The man pushed a few virtual buttons in the air with his free
hand and absent-mindedly dropped the black pants out of Jason’s
duffle bag on to the dusty ground. “Okay. You want me to put a
search order out on the perpetrator?”
 Jason could hear the tiny speakers at the bottom of the officer’s
glasses buzzing softly. The only other sounds were the whining
motor of the rotating lights on the cycle and the occasional
movement of one of the dozen cars waiting in the search line.
Attached as they were to rails, they had no way to move past
Jason’s car until the officer decided they had finished. Jason kept an
eye on his black pants lying in a heap on the dusty gravel. It would
take weeks to order a new pair if he lost those.
“Here’s your bag.”
Jason breathed a sigh of relief through a smile. He took the bag
and quickly bent to pick up the pants. He tucked them carefully into
the bag and headed for his car.
“Thank you, officer.” He didn’t mean it, of course. People just
said it after routine harassment. He tossed the duffle bag into the
warm yellow glow coming from the open car. Before he lifted his foot
in, he felt a small buzzing against his left hip. It stopped him mid
motion and he stepped back out of the car, heart racing.
The officer had checked his code from the SID box.
Since nobody could live without computers, nobody ever
questioned the need for SID boxes. Jason knew better. He knew
they tracked every SID box in the world. More than just a simple
security convenience, these electronic leashes let the government
follow him and everybody else. The box had not randomly tested his
DNA at this moment; the officer had ordered it. From long
experience, Jason knew what that meant.
“Stop right there.”
Having already stopped, Jason turned around.
“Turn around.”
Having already turned around, Jason put his hands up.
“Hands where I can see them.” The officer, obviously looking at
something on his computer screen and not Jason, rapidly punched
the air with his fingers. He used a deliberate, stabbing movement
that showed a kind of contempt for coordination and grace. Jason
didn’t doubt his file was being scanned.
Every time a police officer checked the DNA scan from his SID
box, it ruined Jason’s weekend. Sometimes he could talk them out of
taking him in to the station. This didn’t look like one of those times.
“If you check the annotations, you will see the age discrepancy
on my scan is a mistake. I have a court ordered amendment which
verifies my age.”
The cop continued for a minute before acknowledging Jason.
“This says you’re forty years old.”
“As I said, it’s an error. In the annotation file, it says I am not
forty years old. It’s a computer mistake. Somehow, another person
with my name was mistakenly attached to my SID box code.” The
other person in question happened to be Jason’s father. He didn’t
think the information would be helpful at this time.
“It says here you are wanted for suspicion of heresy.”
“That’s not me,” Jason patiently spoke through gritted teeth.
“You opened a link in the annotation. That’s the other Jason Hunt.”
“Why do you know so much about police files, anyway?” For the
first time in ten minutes the policeman actually looked at Jason
instead of the electronic documents, which were clearly baffling him.
Jason took a deep breath and started again. “When I was
young, the main government computer accidentally associated my
security identification number with another person who has the
same name as me. That person is forty. I’m twenty. The other Jason
Hunt is the one you are looking for. I’m just a University student.
I’ve been down to the city offices several times already. They ran
independent tests to prove it. They put the annotation into my file to
prevent this mistake from happening again.”
The officer’s head bobbed. Clearly, Jason’s explanation had
exceeded his attention span so he’d begun looking at something on
the computer glasses again. As he read deeper into the file, the
officer actually turned his head from side to side and jerked up and
down as if it would somehow help him get closer to the words on
the computer.
“I see,” he finally said.
Jason took a breath to continue his plea, but the officer cut him
off, speaking to someone not physically present again.
“You want to call off the whole search? If it’s only a coincidence,
then the real perpetrator will get away. I know. Okay. What about
this Jason Hunt? Should I bring him in for verification?”
Jason held his breath.
MANY GOVERNMENTS CALLING FOR BAN ON ALIEN TECHNOLOGY VITAL TO
COMPUTERS

Governments are calling for a worldwide ban on the Alien technology

currently used in most computers worn by every living human.
Human scientists have failed to duplicate the clear-circuit technology
vital to the scanning and recognition software employed in new
computers. Computer enthusiasts complain that without clear-circuit
technology, the devices are slower, and cannot run many high-end
video games or worldview programs.
“If we cannot duplicate the technology, we must all step back
and start using older technology,” said the Prime Minister of Great
Britain last week. “Every Alien computer we buy is putting money in
the hands of the enemy. They can’t afford to bring any resources
from other planets. So the best way to beat them is to cut off their
resources here.”
The Undying Emperor ordered a trade embargo against all
technology originating outside the United States. “It is not only
illegal to buy computers from Aliens, it is a sin. If you want to live in
a perfect computer heaven after you die, you must sacrifice some of
the quality of technology you live with now. There are no computers
in hell,” he said in a statement.
Religious activists across America have been gathering for Alien
computer burning ceremonies. Attendance at these events has been
growing slowly, but analysts say it has only made a marginal
difference in the number of imported computers, because the global
market is almost impossible to regulate.

Even without the sound of his breathing, the buzzing of the electric
rails and the clanking off and on of the brakes now holding hundreds
of rail cars in line waiting for this policeman made it impossible to
discern the cop’s actual words from the tiny buzzing sound the
officer’s glasses made. This night had gone from great, to bad, to
worse. Jason knew the ancient oriental concept of balance. He just
wished winning the game didn’t have to be countered by a late night
trip to the police station.
The officer switched off the swirling lights on his fat little
motorcycle. It took a moment for Jason’s mind to accept the
stagnant, brown world again after dealing so long with the chaotic
pulse of red and blue flashing. The officer stood so close, Jason
could almost see the computer projection on the inside of the
officer’s glasses. He couldn’t make out any details, though. He could
discern the officer’s eyes, darting around, making large lines and
boxes open off to the sides every time he winked one eye or the
other.
Jason knew his own eyes glowed just as brightly in the drab,
dark night. With the flashing lights off, his open car door provided
the only other source of light. Normally, Jason would have turned on
the night vision lens to enhance his dark surroundings, but
something told him this officer would see it as an act of aggression.
Eventually, the officer stopped reading the screen and looked
through it at Jason.
“It seems somebody watching your game from the outside
called the police when your friend pulled his little stunt with the gun.
They have identified the jokester’s car. They want to know if you
intend to press charges.”
The sudden juxtaposition of roles left Jason confused. The
policeman asked if he wanted to prosecute while he stood with his
hands up. He thought it through twice, even though he knew the
answer already.
“No,” Jason responded firmly. He had no interest in anything
that would end with him spending more time in the station.
“In regards to your name,” the policeman stepped forward to
put some muscle behind his words, “I’m told they don’t want to do
another verification test at this time. So you are free to go.”
Jason dropped his hands and smiled. For the first time in his
life, they believed him. “Thank you, officer.” This time he meant it.
“Hold on,” the man interrupted. Jason tried to maintain his smile
despite a new fear rising. “You should really think about getting a
new SID box. It might help to clear this mess up faster in the
future.”
“I have,” Jason said. “Three times. It’s not the SID box. It’s the
file. I petitioned a judge to have it changed, but every time
somebody accesses the file for the other Jason Hunt, it automatically
attaches to my file again. I guess it’s just one of those computer
mistakes…”
“Computers don’t make mistakes,” the officer interrupted.
“People do.”
“Good point,” Jason said, rolling his eyes.
The officer straddled his motorcycle. The tires on it were about
eighteen inches wide. He put on a kind of thin metal helmet,
equipped with a second shield to protect his computer glasses. The
ignition started automatically when the officer’s SID box came within
close proximity. Most of the officers thought it a chore to drive the
motorcycles manually, but Jason had always thought they looked
fun. As soon as the policeman drove away past the long line of cars,
Jason jumped into his car and pulled the door down. The car lurched
forward before he had a chance to get into his chair. Jason fell
awkwardly on the seat. Apparently, the computer system was
anxious to get this car going after holding so many others in line
behind it.
Jason sat upright and fastened his seat belt. The egg cars didn’t
normally have seat belts. However, Jason’s father had installed this
one by hand, citing numerous accidents the computers were
supposed to have prevented. His father flatly refused to ride in one
of these “rolling coffins.”
The time estimate his computer gave him now said twenty
minutes. He figured it closer to an hour, though, and that was fine.
Jason didn’t really want to go home yet. After his double victory—
the game and remaining free of police custody—he wanted to
celebrate.
He winked and opened a voice connection with Di, short for
Diane. Jason met Di last year in one of their on-line classes. The two
of them shared links almost immediately. He spent more of his time
connected to her than anybody else.
“You’re done early,” Di said.
Jason had programmed his computer to patch together vids of
her and make it look like she was there talking with him. Each time,
it randomly selected one of the many virtual outfits she had
designed for herself. Tonight, it constructed her image with a large
gold ball gown like the kind people used to wear before computers
made actual variations in clothing obsolete. With her black hair
cropped below her ears and brown eyes, the outfit seemed to make
her beauty radiant. The virtual Di sat in the chair next to him,
rendering the duffel bag invisible.
“You would have known if you had patched into the feed.”
Nobody actually went to watch games these days. Somebody at
the university would splice the footage together into a video and
send it out for all the fans to watch the next day.
“I didn’t expect it to end so quickly. Sorry. It usually takes a lot
longer.”
“That’s true.” Jason smiled, glad she hadn’t patched into his live
feed while the officer searched him.
“I’m almost done with the project I have to turn in tomorrow. I
thought I could catch the last half of the game. What happened?”
 Jason switched over to her live feed.
“They were all-military.”
He could see her moving her hands in the air to manipulate the
virtual thumbnail images, which represented short vids she had been
collecting. It had taken weeks of filming to get to the editing stage
now. It would be half her grade in one class. She studied older forms
and mediums of art, even though these days nobody ever did
anything but photo and video art through their computers. People
didn’t like to actually touch clay or blow glass. Besides, it wasn’t like
anyone was going to buy something non-virtual.
“So, you exploited their expectation of the game working like
the military simulators they train on”
Jason smiled. She knew him so well. “Of course. They were
babies, though. Had to talk them into conceding. They buckled when
they saw this.” He patched through the short video he had made
earlier of the leader calling the others to their doom.
“Pathetic,” she said. “You’d expect more of trained military
types. No wonder we never win the war. They were undefeated?”
She continued working as the conversation went on. Di multitasked
much better than he did.
Jason switched back to the virtual conversation with her sitting
by him so her work wouldn’t distract him. “Not anymore.”
“Congratulations! That means your team’s going to state. We
should celebrate… tonight.”
“I’d love to, but I have to go to my father’s for the weekend.”
“Can you stop by on the way? I’ll be done in ten minutes.”
Just then, the car lurched onto the freeway rails and began
rolling toward his home. “Whoops! I just merged onto the freeway.”
Jason said. Squeaky brakes brought the car to a complete stop just
as quickly as it had gotten rolling. “It’s jammed. No idea how long it
might take.”
He called up her apartment address as the new destination on
his glasses and transmitted it to the main transportation computer.
The time estimate started blinking zeroes as it began recalculating.
“That’s okay,” Di said. “It will give me time to get dressed in
something fabulous.”
 “I liked this one,” Jason said.
Di patched into his live feed for two seconds and then closed it.
“I’ve already worn the gold one twice,” she scoffed. “I’m an art
major. If anybody sees me wearing the same clothes over and over
they’ll think I’ve settled.”
“Who’s going to notice?” Jason asked incredulously. “Nobody
ever sees anything but their own world-view.”
She would really be wearing gray sweats, just like everybody
else, but she took a great deal of pride in her computer-generated
apparel.
“I can’t believe that,” Di said. “There are people out there who
want more than one world-view. I register people checking my live
feed all the time.”
“Says the gorgeous girl.”
“They have other reasons. Besides, I have something special in
mind for you.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I can’t wait to see it.” The red
time estimate stopped blinking and registered ninety minutes.
“Looks like it’ll be hours before I can get there.” He guessed the
bad-sport cadet’s car had been on these rails and the cops had
stopped traffic to search for him.
Jason scoffed, “It’s only five miles! I should just get out of this
thing and walk.”
“You always say such funny things. Imagine, walking five miles!”
Jason had walked much farther in the past, of course. He didn’t
want to confess as much yet. He punched in the closest coordinates
to his father’s house. The computer estimated two hours. He left
those coordinates in the computer and leaned back in his seat.
“Sorry, Di. Looks like I’m going to have to take a rain check. Can we
still celebrate in a couple of days?”
“Sure. I’ll wait to watch the vid so it’s fresh for me.”
“You’re such a doll. Can you work me up an outfit to match
yours? I always look so plain next to your amazing designs.”
“Sure, but you won’t need it this time. What I’ve got in mind is
pretty unique.”
 “Curse this lousy traffic. I can’t wait,” he said through a real
smile.
“You’ll have to.”
“Call me when you’re ready for me to have a private preview of
what is destined someday to become a world famous art vid.”
“You’re going to watch all the video feeds from the game right
now? So soon after the game?”
“I have an athletic scholarship to keep up.”
“I think you do it because you love the game.”
“Just like you love art.”
“Good point. So you’re spending another weekend at your
father’s. I won’t get to see you or the game for two days.”
“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go out and have some fun.”
“Promise me you’ll call… a lot.” Her low voice, for a young
woman, had so much depth, Jason felt almost as though he was
hypnotized when she spoke.
“I’ll call as much as I can. You know my dad’s a bit eccentric
about these things.”
“And you’re sleeping in the car again? That’s bad for your back,
you know.”
“Can’t be helped, I’m afraid.”
“Will you be cutting me off your live feeds? I miss you too much
when you do.”
“I’ll leave it open as often as possible, and when I can’t be in
contact with you, I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”
“Sure you will.”
“I will.”
Jason winked at her. He had re-programmed his computer so
when he talked to Di winking didn’t pull up the computer menus as
usual. Instead, it showed her a vid of him winking. She absolutely
loved it, of course. With the usual wink disabled, he had to shut his
eyes for three seconds to end the connection.
Jason tilted the seat back into a semi-comfortable position,
knowing he would be sleeping here. He pulled a nutrition bar out of
his pack and began to gnaw on it absently. Di amazed him. He’d
never met another girl like her.
 He opened the files and began watching the full-length vids
from the perspective of every player in the game. Boss had made a
gutsy charge, which ended in a successful kill. Jason nodded his
approval. Eventually, the car lurched and the electricity hummed
again while the metal wheels creaked along the rails. A few minutes
later, as he watched one of the military cadets turning to follow the
siren’s call of their leader, a red dot began to blink on the lower right
hand side of his field of vision. Jason paused the vid and winked
open the alert message.
His father’s security program informed him, ‘A police car is
following you.’
The window of his car faced forward, and there was no camera
on the back to let Jason see what was behind him. Even if there had
been, his pursuer would look like any other car on the rails. Jason
checked the time estimate for his trip—3 hours. His father’s security
utilities were usually accurate. Jason did not doubt a police officer
followed him. The question was why.
POLLUTION CONTROL RESEARCH PROMISING

Scientists at MIT claim they have made a breakthrough in air

pollution cleaning technology. A gas, inert to plants, animals, and
humans, has been developed which, when sprayed into the air,
combines with most of the harmful pollutants and forms into a solid
which then falls out of the sky. Although currently the delivery
method (retrofitted crop dusting planes) is prohibitively expensive,
scientists are working in cooperation with Harvard researchers to
develop an inexpensive balloon, which should deliver the gas to the
polluted air at a more reasonable price.
Dr. Barrington, Dean of the MIT Chemistry College, said,
“Unfortunately, we have been unable to get the density of the
cleaning gas down to the point where launching it from the ground
would be feasible. However, if the balloon delivery method can be
made reasonably cost-effective, we have high hopes of clearer skies
soon.”
They won’t reveal the chemical formula, but testing data shows
the gas works in a manner similar to EDTA. After binding to the
pollutants, it carries them to the ground where rain can break the
harmful chemicals down and wash them away. The FDA says they
won’t approve the gas for use until they are sure no serious danger
exists after prolonged exposure. Nevertheless, the government
remains hopeful this wonder gas can improve the quality of life in
America.

Jason woke early the next morning. The light from the small
window wasn’t what woke him, though. The uncomfortable seat had
made rest impossible. The computer, detecting his open eyes, slowly
began invading his vision over a thirty-second period so his eyes
would have time to adjust to the light. It was annoying if you
opened your eyes for a moment while you were still sleeping and the
computer powered on, waking you up completely.
The readout said he would arrive at his destination in five
minutes. Jason assumed he probably had fifteen or twenty. Thirst
threatened to consume him. His hasty decision to skip stopping at
home left him woefully under-provisioned.
He took off his seatbelt, then stretched his arms up. Then he
stood as well as he could in the odd space to stretch his legs. It felt
good, despite the cramped space.
A minute after he sat back down, Jason became bored. He tried
patching into Di’s live feed. A message flashed across his vision:
Feed Unavailable. She must be sleeping. He wished the camera
could turn on remotely so he could see her sleep. Even better, he
wished he could see her dreams. Despite the nearly complete
human dependence on the computers, they really couldn’t do as
much as he would have liked.
Jason quickly accessed the world network, checking the game
statistics. Last night’s game had been registered and linked. The
scores didn’t come up on the first page, just the spliced game
footage. They doctored the players’ recorded footage with sound
effects, cheering fans in the background, commentary, instant
replays, and slow motion shots. He copied the file into his own
computer’s memory. He didn’t have time to watch it right now, since
it always ran a lot longer than the actual game. He just clicked past
to “final results.” His team won. Jason smiled.
His back felt stiff. He pulled his glasses down, rubbing his eyes.
It was more than twenty miles from his apartment to the rails
running near his father’s house. There was no parking rail, of course.
Once he was out of the main city area, the ride usually went
smoothly. When he put the glasses back on and began scrolling
through the game results from other Universities, he saw the small
red dot in the lower right hand corner… still blinking.
He sat straight up, immediately awake. The cop was still there?
There was no way this was a coincidence. It was uncommon for
people to go this far out of the city, except when they were heading
to another city. For a cop to do it, that was unheard of. This wasn’t
even within their jurisdiction. Not that it would matter in court.
Jason looked at the map of the rail his car followed. He was
almost at his father’s house. Because there was no parking rail, he
usually stopped the car, then sent it to a rest stop about four miles
further along. Today, though, the cop was likely to get out when the
car stopped. Since it was in the middle of nowhere, an unscheduled
stop would tip the officer off that something was not right. If he
alerted the police to this location near his father’s house, his father
would be furious. Then, Jason knew, his father would have to move
to a different, possibly even more remote, location. Jason would
never hear the end of it.
Instead, Jason programmed a long string of coordinates into the
computer. They would take the car far away, turn it around, and
send it back along the parallel rails in the opposite direction. With
any luck the car would be back tomorrow at the same time. If he
was there early enough to meet it, he could go home. If not, he’d
have to call it back again when he was ready.
Jason reached down and pulled open the door handle. Normally
cars would never let the door open while they were moving., but his
father had broken the safety switch on this car. Wind filled his ears
and blew his sandy blond hair everywhere. The computer glasses
protected his eyes, for the most part. With the door only partially
open, Jason estimated the car’s speed to be a lot faster than he
would have liked. This would hurt. At least he knew how to fall
without breaking anything.
He looked ahead until he found a spot where the gravel ended
close to the rail for his jumping point.
He looked back at the car in pursuit. The officer inside would
never look through the window and see him jump. Considering the
still dim twilight of morning, the officer was probably asleep.
Turning back, Jason mentally calculated the distance he needed
to roll after the jump. The cold air froze his ears and his fingers on
the open door. His life seemed like one crazy thing after another. He
should just stay in the car and tell his father he couldn’t visit.
Something pushed him, though. He didn’t like changing his plans
because of the police. Jason certainly had no interest in being taken
in as a witness or, even worse, undergoing another DNA test. The
moment approached. He aimed for a spot where a few tufts of grass
graced the dirt.
With a smooth and automatic action, he leaped from the half-
open door so it would finish closing behind him. For a half second
his stomach knotted during free-fall, where he reached his hands up
to protect his expensive computer glasses. Then his reflexes kicked
in, and he rolled automatically without thought.
The metallic sound of wheels rolling by carried the two cars
away before Jason let himself move. He sat up slowly, taking careful
inventory of every limb. Scrapes and cuts covered his elbows. He
had a stinging bruise on one of his right ribs where a rock or
something had jabbed him. He lifted the now filthy gray sweatshirt
to reveal a small trickle of blood. Interestingly, as he stood, his back
didn’t feel stiff anymore. He brushed his now wild hair back with his
hands, pulling out a small twig and dried leaf.
Then Jason smiled, discovered one of his lips swelling, and
slowly walked away from the rails toward the trees. He reached
down to the SID box at his hip. The surgical tape had come loose on
one side. Luckily, the box remained intact. He pressed the dirty tape
back into place, making a mental note to replace it when he cleaned
all the other wounds. At least his father’s paranoia meant a well-
stocked first-aid kit.
 The first time he broke his SID box, Jason asked his father
about getting one surgically implanted. His father strictly forbade it.
So he had to keep this older, tape-on model. It had been in the
same place too long already. Jason would actually be glad to give
this patch of skin a break and put the box somewhere else.
As he walked away from the weedy gravel surrounding the car
rails, Jason took a moment to scan the scrub oak trees around him.
The parking rail appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. The small
valley was covered in wild oak broken by the occasional pine tree.
The ground remained mostly bare dirt and rock except for the
occasional persistent weed, making the place the definition of bleak
in the winter. Now, though, the leaves greened up for spring,
smelling fresh.
Because he’d been coming here twice a month for almost
twenty years, Jason knew to fear an ambush. He hated to think
what would happen if he should be caught off guard anywhere along
the half mile between the rails and the house.
Jason moved to the left. He had strict instructions to follow
different routes every time he went to the house so he wouldn’t
create visible trails. His steps were as near to silent as possible.
Trained to protect himself since the day he could walk, Jason
possessed the stealth of a hunting feline. The bruises and cuts from
jumping out of the speeding car had already made him unhappy.
Now, he realized he didn’t have any weapons with him. Jason began
to wonder more and more why he hadn’t just stayed in the car.
He pulled his glasses down occasionally to check the
surrounding area. Jason paused behind a thick copse and rapidly
winked through and pulled up a file. Over the years, he had carefully
mapped this area. There were dozens of places highlighted by the
computer indicating where he had encountered trouble before. His
bushwhacker only had so many spots where this twisted foliage
provided adequate concealment.
As he approached one of the highlighted spots, Jason winked on
his night vision program. In the daytime it would not usually help
much. However, it showed a bright light inside another copse of
trees ahead. The infrared detection indicated something large and
warm inside the grove. He winked off the night vision and marked
the spot in his program. The trees began to glow red so he could
easily identify them from anywhere nearby.
It didn’t surprise him. This crazy old man lived out here, always
trying to catch anyone off their guard. The sound of the infrequent
cars going by was usually what drew him out. Sometimes Jason
really hated this old man. For the hundredth time, he wished his
father had chosen a better place to live. Every time he said so, he
got the same lecture about constant vigilance.
Jason’s heart began to race the same as when he played the
game, despite the more dire consequences for failure in this
situation. All his senses piqued. The adrenaline in his blood helped
him keep his movement imperceptible. He scanned the ground
carefully before each foot placement. He kept constant watch for
any motion in the oak cluster. He knew how to be predator or prey.
Today he would be the prey. Once he had inched his way around, he
knew he could no longer count on the trees to hide him.
There was only one thing left to do—run!
UNDYING EMPEROR RECRUITING SOLDIERS, RAISES TAXES

The Undying Emperor launched a new fundraising campaign today in

response to the overwhelming request for help from countries in
South America, Africa, Europe, and the Middle East. The government
raised the tax on all computer software and equipment by 0.1%
today. This increase should generate over twenty billion dollars,
earmarked to strengthen US borders and train new recruits already
promised overseas.
The Undying Emperor’s military advisor recommended the
measure as a means of keeping the war off American soil. So far,
two hundred thousand American soldiers have died fighting Aliens
across the globe. Although this number is staggering, it pales by
comparison to the numbers of soldiers lost by other countries. Some
estimates say between the Alien flu and the war, over half of the
population of South America has been lost thus far.
Scientists say they have developed better tracking programs
that make our soldiers much more effective than they were in the
past. Pending field-testing, they hope this technology will improve
the effectiveness of all humans in the ongoing war.
Another random document with
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god-daughter among the party." And so saying, he and the
vicar left the room.

Then Austin, drawing near his father, read aloud his

brother's letter. We will not give details. Suffice it to say it
was a manly, earnest letter, making full confession of all
that had taken place ere he left home, and imploring
forgiveness for the past. He wrote much of the kindness of
Harry Lascelles, who, he said, had been the means, not only
of restoring his bodily health, but also of leading him to the
Saviour. He had also obtained for him the situation of
assistant mathematical master in the University of Sydney,
where in his spare hours he was to attend two or three
classes in order to finish his education.

He longed much, he wrote, to return home, that he might

once more see his father and his loved ones; but Harry had
counselled him to remain where he was, believing that was
his present duty, and he had thought it best to follow his
advice. He thanked Austin much for all the brotherly love he
had ever shown to him, and for the words of warning he
had again and again spoken to him. There was also a kind
message to Prissy; and his warm love to all, not forgetting
the M'Ivors, who had been true friends to him.

There were tears of joy not a few shed during the reading of
the letter; and together the three knelt at the throne of
grace and returned thanks to God for the loved one who
had been dead and was alive again, lost and was found.

"And now," said the father, "lead me to the drawing-room,

that we may share the children's mirth. I cannot see their
faces, nor the lights of the Christmas tree, but a bright light
has to-night been shed on my heart by the Prince of Peace
himself, which lightens and indeed dispels all darkness."
As they entered, the children ran to meet them, and led
them in triumph to the tree in the centre of the room. It
was indeed a lovely one, ablaze with lights and glittering
ornaments, its branches covered as if with hoar frost, and
laden with blight-coloured fruits and tastefully-arranged
presents.

Little Ruth, in a pale blue dress, was seated on Harry's

shoulder—the very queen of the company.

Never, surely, had a Christmas tree seemed more beautiful,

never did Christmas carols sound more sweetly than they
did that night, for there was true Christmas joy in the
hearts of the singers and listeners.

"Ah, it has been so charming," was the declaration of

Gabrielle M'Ivor; whilst Austin Warner, and more than he,
said in their hearts that it was to Gabrielle's deft fingers and
artistic taste that the tree owed much of its beauty; and
that her silvery laugh and loving words had contributed
much to the pleasure of the evening.

When the last hymn was sung—

"Hark, the herald angels sing,

'Glory to the new-born King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!'"

And the last good-nights exchanged, Priscilla lingered for a

moment in the drawing-room, holding Ruth by the hand,
whilst Claude and Archie stood beside her. Harry Lascelles
came forward to say good-night, kissing his little god-
daughter as he did so; then said in a voice heard only by
Priscilla, "Thank God, dear Sissy, that you have a work to
do that angels might envy, and that you are doing it."

She smiled sadly and said, "But, Harry, it has not been
always so."

"I know it," he replied. "I spoke of the present. Thank God,
he has told us what he has done with all our past repented
of sins and failures—cast them behind his back."

And once more saying good-night, he departed, and Priscilla

retired to rest.

CHAPTER XVII.
BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM.

"There are souls that seem to dwell

Above this earth, so rich a spell
Floats round their steps, where'er they move,
From hopes fulfilled and mutual love."

FIVE years have passed since the Christmas eve we have

written about in our last chapters. Once more summer
sunshine was flooding the world, lighting up the dark pines
near the Grove and playing among the many-coloured
flowers in the garden there. It lighted up, as well, the
gloomy cottages in the hamlet near, where Prissy Warner
had for long carried on her blessed work of helping many of
its dwellers into the kingdom.

A number of women with babies in their arms, and little

ones just beginning to walk playing beside them, stood at
the doors, enjoying the warmth of the lovely summer day.
They were in earnest conversation; and from the remarks
that fell now from one, now from another, it was evident
that some event of importance to them was to take place
that day.

"I be glad Mr. Austin and his bride are getting such a shiny
day to come back. And to think that they start so soon
again to foreign lands! But it's a grand missionary Mr.
Austin'll make, that he will. He's a real Christian, so homely
and kind."

"And his bride!" said a woman coming forward. "Have ye no

word for her, the pretty young creature? I do say Miss
Gabrielle that was is a sweet leddy, and a good; and only to
think of her agoing to these heathen places, where she'll
meet wi' all kinds of danger. Oh, she's a pretty one!"

"Oh yes," chimed in other voices, "that she be; and may
she prove a good wife."

"But it'll be a sad day," said another voice, "for our leddy,
Miss Warner, when her brother leaves, though she says she
be's well pleased he is agoing to spend his life in tellin' the
heathen 'bout Jesus. But she'll miss him sorely. The Lord
bless her for all she's done for us and ours."

"Oh, she is a leddy, that she be," said many of them.

"It's a puzzle," said one, "how she has been let stay Miss
Warner so long, though some do say there's summat
between her and young Mr. Lascelles."
"Maybe, maybe there is, but we're in no hurry to have her
taken from us, even by him. And how would the old
gentleman and the young uns do without her? Though Miss
Ruth is growing up a likely girl. But there, the carriage will
be passing, and we'll lose the sight of the young couple as
they pass to the Grove."

"But ye know," put in one or two voices, "we'll see them at

the meetin' to-morrow night to bid them farewell and God-
speed."

Yes, many besides the women whose conversation we have

related wondered that Prissy was Miss Warner still. But so it
was; and a happy, useful, Christ-like life she spent, nobly
fulfilling her woman's mission as a helper and comforter.
Her father clung to her with increasing tenderness, and
turned to her as a help in his favourite pursuits. She still
acted as amanuensis, though by God's blessing on the skill
of a famous oculist, the sight of one of his eyes had been
restored. And Claude and Ruth looked to her for help and
sympathy in everything.

Father and daughter stood together a moment ere starting

for the station, where they were going to welcome back
Austin and his pretty bride Gabrielle from their marriage
trip. They were coming to spend ten days at the Grove ere
starting as missionaries to China.

"Prissy," said Dr. Warner, "it is a joyful thing now to me to

think God has put it into Austin's heart to consecrate all his
talents to his cause, and go as his ambassador to tell the
good news of Christ crucified and risen again to the
heathen. God grant he may be greatly used in gathering in
souls to the kingdom of God."
"I am sure he will be so used," said Prissy with emotion.
"Austin's desire since he was a boy has been to help on the
kingdom of God; and he began to do so early, both in his
own home and amongst his schoolfellows, and in later years
he did so at college. So long ere he was ordained of men to
preach the gospel, he had done so, wherever he had been,
by life and word, and already many call him blessed."

"Yes, my daughter, I have long felt it is a mockery for any

one to pray the words, 'Thy kingdom come,' and yet do
nothing to help it on just where they live. Lewis and Archie
have learned that lesson also, don't you think?"

"Yes, indeed," replied Prissy, "I am sure they have. Lewis

writes that Austin taught him that lesson long ago, though
it was our dear mother who first spoke to him about it. And
Archie—O father, I am glad about him. His letters are so
earnest and good, and he takes such just views of life and
its responsibilities. I am sure he will make a noble Christian
architect."

Ere Dr. Warner could reply, the door opened, and Ruth, a
sweet-looking girl, entered, bearing a basket filled with
violets in her hand.

"Prissy," she said, "I am taking these to give to Gabrielle as

she steps out of the train, she does so love flowers, la petite
Francaise! Though, I daresay, little Jean will be beforehand
with me. Still there are no violets so sweet, I am sure, as
ours are."

Prissy smiled, but said, "So be it, Ruth. But now let us be
off; violets and all, in case the travellers arrive ere we do. I
believe Claude is at the station already."

Father and daughters set off together, walking across the

common, now richly carpeted with summer flowers.
"Ruth," said her father, playfully, "it would be more in
keeping with your name if instead of violets, you bore a
sheaf of corn in your hand."

"Not yet, father," she said, a quiet grave look crossing her
face as she spoke. "But one day I do hope to carry a large
sheaf and lay it down at the Master's feet, like the 'little
soul-gatherer' of whom I read lately. That is my ambition,
father, that the 'woman's work' I desire to do."

Prissy glanced at her with tears of joy in her eyes. Never

before had Ruth so openly spoken of her life's aim.

In answer, her father laid his hand on Ruth's shoulder,

saying, "The Lord give thee the desire of thy heart, my
child."

With almost child-like glee, Ruth handed her basket of

violets to Gabrielle as she stepped with her husband from
the train to the spot where her own father, mother, and little
Jean stood with Dr. Warner, Prissy, and Claude, ready to bid
them welcome.

As they drove to the Grove, the bells pealed out. And when
Austin and his bride were ensconced in his father's house,
he stood up and prayed the Lord's Prayer.

As he uttered the petition so precious to the hearts of more

than one of the assembled group:

"Thy kingdom come—"

It seemed caught up and echoed again and again over "hill
and dale" by the silvery bells.

CHAPTER XVIII.
HOME AT LAST.

"Go labour on while it is day;

The world's dark night is hastening on.
Speed, speed thy work; cast sloth away:
It is not thus that souls are won."

"Men die in darkness at your side,

Without a hope to cheer the tomb:
Take up the torch and ware it wide,
The torch that lights times thickest gloom."

THE evening of the farewell missionary meeting had come

round. A soft, sweet summer evening it was. The sun was
still shining, causing the slight haze that hung over village
and hills to assume a golden hue; but a slight breeze had
risen, and was playing very gently amongst the "leafy tide
of greenery" which surrounded the little suburban church in
which the meeting was to be held. People were already
coming from all directions, some from the town of Hereford,
others from little hamlets or pleasant farmsteads away in
the opposite direction. In little groups they came, fathers,
mothers, and children, or friendly neighbours, walking in
twos and twos.
At the appointed hour, the little church was filled, and many
a whispered blessing arose as the young missionary and his
wife, accompanied by the M'Ivors and Dr. Warner, Prissy,
Ruth, Archie, and Claude, entered.

Several of the neighbouring clergy were present to bid God-

speed to the young couple ere they left their native land. At
last, Austin stood up to say a few parting words.

"I thank God," he said, "that he has given to me the desire

of my heart, in permitting me to go forth as a labourer in
the dark places of the earth, many of which are white
already to harvest. My heart is sad to-night as I think of
bidding farewell to so many loved ones. But I go not alone.
My loved wife goes with me, anxious to help on the great
work of winning souls; and above all, the Saviour whom we
love will himself go with us. And whilst he goes with us, he
will also remain to bless and keep those we leave behind.
Friends, pray for us, that the Word of the Lord may have
free course and be glorified in heathen countries, even as it
is in our own beloved land; and seek that ere long all the
kingdoms of this world may become the kingdoms of our
Lord and of his Christ. And may he in mercy grant that all of
us may one day be amongst those who shall stand before
the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes,
with the palms of victory in their hands."

"Amen!" responded many voices.

And when the farewell words commending the young couple

to the keeping of God were pronounced, tears fell from
many eyes, and even strangers were strongly moved.
Amongst those was a handsome young man who had
entered the church after the service had begun, and had
listened with rapt attention to the young missionary; but
the moment he ceased to speak, his eyes turned eagerly to
the pew where Professor Warner and his family sat, and
rested with a look of deep emotion on the figures there.

When the service was concluded the stranger stood back to

let the people shake hands with Austin and his bride.

But as the young missionary was saying a kindly word to

one of his cottage friends, his eye rested on the face of the
tall, bearded stranger, and he started as if an electric shock
had passed through him. That face, that figure, changed
though they were, recalled so vividly the companion of his
boyhood, his loved brother Lewis. Could it be he?
Unheeding the crowd around him, he pressed forward to
where the stranger stood as if spell-bound, and in another
second, their hands were clasped in a loving grasp, and the
long-parted brothers were once more side by side.

"Thank God you are here, Lewis; but how comes it about?
And our father, does he know? How glad he will be! See, he
and Prissy have gone to the porch to await me."

"But, Austin (dear old fellow, how good it is to see you

again!), I could not meet my father amongst strangers. Go
you to the many friends who are waiting for you, and I will
cross the common to the Grove and await you there."

And afraid to trust himself to say another word, he passed

out unobserved, and took the road to his father's house.

Dr. Warner, Austin, Gabrielle, and Prissy had assembled

once more in the pleasant drawing-room in the Grove, the
father's eye lingering lovingly on the face of the son from
whom he was so soon to part, probably for life, and his
thoughts turned to his other dearly-loved son in Australia,
who had now amply redeemed the errors of his youth, and
had now for five years held a situation of trust in the
University of Sydney. His thoughts found vent in words.
"Austin," he said, "I would that you and Lewis had met ere
you left for China. Harry Lascelles writes he thinks we may
expect your brother home ere very long, as he has now a
chance of obtaining some good opening here.—But in the
meantime, Priscilla, have we not been long of hearing from
him? God grant there is nothing amiss."

Just then the door opened, and a stranger gentleman

entered.

In a moment, Prissy sprung to her feet and moved, not

toward the stranger, but to her father's side, as if to support
him, whilst the word "Lewis" rose to her lips.

Instantly the stranger was beside her, and had thrown

himself into his father's arms, saying, "Father, let me hear
thy voice saying, 'I forgive thee.'"

But no words were required. The father broke down, and

with tears of joy could only sob out the words, "My son, my
first-born, much loved son, welcome, welcome home."

And Prissy and Austin repeated the words, "Welcome,

welcome home."

When all the group knelt that night at the family altar, and
Austin's voice rose in prayer, Lewis joined heartily in the
Amen uttered by all as the young missionary prayed that
those then kneeling in the presence of God would anew give
themselves to Him, to spend their lives wherever they lived
in seeking to draw souls out of Satan's kingdom, and lead
them into that of the King of kings.

And when his words had ceased, Dr. Warner took up the
strain, and gave thanks for the safe return of the one who
"was lost, and was found again."
When Prissy and her brother sat together alone ere retiring
to rest, they had much to say to each other. Prissy began to
allude to her shortcomings in her home life.

But her brother interrupted her by saying, "Nay, Prissy, we

will speak no more of the sins of our youth, but rather, by
God's grace, like the apostle, forgetting the things that are
behind, let us press forward to those that are before. What
a noble fellow Austin has become!" he said. "And how bright
and pleasant Gabrielle looks! And our Ruth too, Prissy, what
a charm there is in her face; and as to Archie and Claude, I
can scarcely believe they are the little fellows I left. And our
father—ah! How he has aged, but how kind he is! Prissy, no
one can ever know how I longed for a sight of him and all of
you during the long weary weeks I lay in the hospital at
Sydney. Ah! That was indeed a miserable time, till Harry
Lascelles came and led my thoughts to our Father in
heaven; and then I was led as a little child to come to
Jesus, and to enter through him, even on earth, the
kingdom of heaven."

No wonder, after all the events of that day, that Priscilla

Warner lay down to rest with a song of praise in her heart
for all the undeserved mercies received from the loving
hand of their Father in heaven.

CHAPTER XIX.
OLD FRIENDS.

"Jes s still lead on

 "Jesus, still lead on,
Till our rest be won;
Heavenly Leader, still direct us,
Still support, console, protect us,
Till we safely stand
In our Fatherland."

SOME years have passed since Austin Warner and his fair
bride set off for China, and since Lewis had returned from
Sydney. And ere we part we will take a glance at our old
friends.

Priscilla Warner has changed her name, and for some time
has been Priscilla Lascelles, and can no longer, she smilingly
declares, be called "only a girl," for she is a matronly-
looking person, and the mother of two little boys. Dr.
Lascelles has left the navy, and is now a hard-working, well-
employed medical man in Manchester. He and his wife are
well known and beloved in the houses of the poor. Priscilla's
talents are by no means hidden in a napkin, and more than
one young man of limited means has reason to bless the
doctor's kind wife, who willingly devotes a spare hour to
helping them in their mathematical studies, and by her
thoughtful actions and loving words seeks to turn them
from darkness and lead them into the kingdom of God.

There is no fear, her brother Lewis says, that her boys will
ever have to complain of the dulness of the evenings in
their home, for father and mother alike do all they can to
brighten the after-dinner hours for the young ones. The
blessing of God, that "maketh rich and bringeth no sorrow
with it," rests on that happy home, and Harry often tells his
wife that now, as in olden days, God has intrusted to her a
work which angels might envy.
At the Grove there is a small home-party now—only the
professor and his bonnie Ruth, as he calls her, who has ably
filled her sister's place since her departure. Ruth's ambition
of being a soul-gatherer is being quietly but surely fulfilled.
God is using her hand to gather in one by one precious
souls to his garner. She has not Priscilla's wonderful talents,
but she is well read and well informed, able to enjoy the
conversation of her father and friends on any subject, and
take part in it intelligently. But she finds her greatest
pleasure in the service of the King of kings, in whose home
harvest-field she loves to labour. Hers is no idle hand. Jean
M'Ivor and she go hand in hand in helping on every good
work.

Then Lewis, now a professor in a college in the north of

England, and a married man, comes often to the Grove to
see his old father.

And Archie, who resides in London, and is getting on well,

also goes from time to time to see the inmates of the
Grove.

And when the hot summer days come round, and the
common is carpeted with bright flowers, Priscilla and her
sturdy boys are packed off by the doctor from the close city
to drink in the fresh breezes that blow around the Grove,
and by their presence to cheer the hearts of the professor
and his little Ruth.

The letters from China are full of hope. God is blessing the
labours of Austin and Gabrielle there, and more than one
soul has through their instrumentality been called out of the
darkness of heathenism into light, and learned from their
hearts to take up and echo the petition taught them by their
divine Master:
 "Thy kingdom come."

"We have much to encourage us," writes Austin,

"but we need more workers. Let no one forget
that even yet 'millions of souls in China are
dying without a God.' And, dear ones, pray that
the Lord of the harvest would send forth
labourers into this harvest-field."

As Priscilla read aloud this letter to her father, she laid her
hand on the head of her noble boys as they stood beside
her, and prayed that one day they might be led to say, in
answer to the Lord's appeal, "Whom shall I send, and who
will go for me?" "Here am I; send me."

And so they also might, either at home or abroad, share in

the great privilege of helping on "the kingdom of God."

THE END.
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "THY
KINGDOM COME." ***

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