Genocide of One: A Thriller (43 page)

Acres opened the door, and before them lay the Oval Office. President Burns looked
over at them from behind his desk. He had on a dark blue suit and a tie of a similar
color. Daily workouts had given him a firm body. Contrary to what you’d expect from
such a supremely powerful figure, though, his eyes flitted around in a hesitant, timid
way.

“This is Arthur Rubens, the person in charge of strategy for Operation Nemesis.”

As Holland introduced him, Burns walked to the center of the room. For no clear reason,
fear welled up in Rubens, and he struggled to suppress it. He had to contain the human
reaction of blind obedience to authority, or else he’d never be able to uncover the
other person’s true colors.

The president shot Rubens a sullen glance. “So?” he said to the CIA director. “I’d
be happy if you tell me the operation is completed. What’s the situation now?”

“The operation is just about finished.”

“And you’ll get rid of the threat in the Congo?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

Burns motioned them to sit, and sat down on the sofa. He was clearly tired. “Why,
when I’m so busy, do I have to hear about this low-priority plan? Are there some other
issues?”

“The reason I asked you to meet with us tonight, Mr. President, is to let you know
of the possibility of a connection between the hijacking of the drone and Operation
Nemesis.”

Burns’s eyes tensed. Rubens was confused by this sudden change in expression. His
eyes were exactly those of a child afraid of being scolded by his father. Was the
president afraid of something?

“What do you mean? You’re not saying that child—Nous—did it, are you?”

“I’m saying it’s a possibility.”

“Do you have any hard proof?”

“It was just a little too slick the way China surfaced so quickly as the source. In
the past when the US Central Command’s network was hacked, we never found out where
the attack came from. If China’s cyberwarfare unit did this, then they have the technology
to conceal it.”

“That’s ridiculous. Saying that a three-year-old—a Pygmy child, no less—did this is
much more unbelievable, wouldn’t you say?” Burns went on. “When I say ‘a Pygmy child,’
understand, I just mean they’re not civilized. That’s all.”

“But if he reached the level of abilities mentioned in the Heisman Report—”

“I can’t believe that’s possible.”

Rubens couldn’t overlook how worked up Burns was. The skin around his eyes flushed.
The fear that had assaulted Burns before had now turned to open hostility.

Holland calmly began to try to persuade the president of the need to modify Operation
Nemesis. Rubens, seated beside him, focused on analyzing the fluctuation in Burns’s
emotional state. To successfully persuade him he would need to pinpoint what he was
afraid of and what was the object of his anger. Was he racist? Neo-Nazis and white
supremacists had similar mind-sets, in that their violent impulses were transformed
into a political ideology that became the pretext for phony right-wing groups. It
was all a manifestation of twisted pride, of people whose pasts kept them from affirming
their individual identities. Instead they sought refuge in the group, identifying
with the organization. They saw the group as superior and their affiliation with it
as proving their own superiority. It was clear that their interests were directed
entirely inward, since their most vicious attacks were aimed at comrades who raised
objections to their principles and positions, at members who should have completely
affirmed the organization. For Burns, too, who was devoted to neoconservatism, it
was undeniable that he uncritically affirmed the group to which he belonged. But what
was hard to figure out about him was the kind of barely controlled anger he had displayed
earlier. In America it would be a fatal mistake for any politician to openly display
racism. If Burns possessed a strong racial prejudice that made him lose self-control,
it would have been impossible for him to have hidden this in his political activities
up until now. Most likely he was not a racist. Even if he did have a slight sense
of discrimination, he was smart enough to keep it in check.

The CIA director’s briefing continued until Burns frowned and cut him off. “I simply
can’t believe that one child could throw the United States into crisis. Aren’t we
humans the highest intelligence on earth?”

“But if we accept that, then the whole premise of the mission falls apart. Operation
Nemesis’s mission was supposed to be to remove the threat to mankind posed by this
new intelligence.”

“My approval of the mission was based solely on my desire to get rid of the threat
that our codes would be broken. Nothing more, nothing less. It just happens that this
child has an extraordinary mathematical ability, right?”

“If that’s true then we still have the option to use that ability to help our country.
We protect Nous and use his ability to decrypt codes. Also…” Holland hesitated. “Nous
is the only one we save. There’s no need to rescue the four mercenaries and the anthropologist.”

This was a huge concession on Holland’s part, but Burns brushed it aside. “No. There’s
no need to change the operation.”

Political decisions might appear to be done rationally, but in reality the decision
maker’s personality plays a huge role. And in the president’s decisive attitude, Rubens
detected a bias in his character. Some personal belief must be motivating his insistence
on wiping out Nous. But what was it? Rubens knew the only possible answer and was
beginning to think it was impossible to change Operation Nemesis. Before Burns became
a politician he’d been an alcoholic, had prayed to God to help him, and he’d recovered.

“Your name’s Arthur?” Burns turned to glare at Rubens.

“Yes, sir.”

“Arthur, I’m disappointed in you. Why is it taking this long to deal with one child?
Are you that incompetent?”

“Compared to Nous, all of mankind is incompetent.”

As he spoke these challenging words Rubens sensed Holland tense up. Perhaps taken
by surprise, the president stared hard at the young analyst.

“Please let me tell you about the type of enemy we are confronting.” Rubens changed
his tone and explained the analysis found in the Heisman Report, without mentioning
Heisman by name. He realized there was a hidden land mine in what he said, and, as
he expected, Burns stepped right on it. When he heard that Nous was using what Heisman
had called God’s strategy, the president reacted immediately.

“I don’t want to hear that kind of idiocy!”

Burns was obviously upset and was about to say more when Holland hurriedly reprimanded
Rubens. “That is an inappropriate example. Stick to a political analysis.”

“I apologize,” Rubens said. “I agree it was inappropriate. However—”

Holland calmly took over.
Don’t say another word
was his unspoken message. “What Rubens is trying to say is that if we stop our attack,
there’s a possibility that the threat will vanish.”

The president turned a jaundiced eye on Holland, looking like he wished he’d disappear.
Rubens stared at this man, known as a devout Christian, who prayed every time he plotted
the Iraq War. At his feet, lit by a light from above, lay a dark shadow known as intolerance.
But this didn’t make Burns so unusual. Imagining an omniscient, omnipotent being and
regarding people of other religions as enemies is a common Homo sapiens trait. People
decide whether others are friends or enemies not just based on skin color or language
but also on what god they worship. And God is a convenient being who can even wipe
away the crime of mass murder, as long as one repents.

Rubens was gradually understanding the workings of the president’s mind. For Burns,
an evolved human being would be his newest enemy, a substitute for those of another
faith.

“That’s enough,” the president said, standing up in the middle of Holland’s remarks.
He’d lost patience. “Your assessment of this threat is considerably exaggerated. Just
like the situation with Iraq. Where were the WMDs? Stop deceiving me with a threat
that doesn’t exist.”

Rubens could sense both a guilty conscience and a desire to shift responsibility.
The president’s confident demeanor when he spoke publicly about the Iraq invasion
was a complete act.

“I’m not saying the use of force against Iraq was a mistake,” Burns said as he headed
back to his desk. His haughty attitude whenever he insisted on justifying his decision
only revealed how deep-seated his guilty conscience really was. “We liberated the
Iraqi people from a tyrannical government and gave them their freedom.”

America has gotten too damn big, Rubens mused. It is too much responsibility for one
person to be in charge of this enormous country. Given more power than he deserved,
Burns had been driven to use it any way he wanted, and this had turned to violence.
He panicked at the disaster his decision had brought about, was tortured by a sense
of guilt, and sought salvation. However…

If humanity evolves, then human beings will no longer be made in God’s image. And
if they lose God’s favor and love, then their sins will no longer be forgiven. Burns’s
soul would forever bear the sin of killing one hundred thousand Iraqi citizens. And
that was not all. Burns projected his own image onto that of this unknown new intelligence.
When a person has a commanding type of power—be it great authority or intelligence—he
can lose control and use his power for violence. Burns knew this well, and firsthand.
That’s why he feared his opponent and wanted to take the first move by attacking it—before
this being who was not God brought down his own judgment. Before what killed Vice
President Chamberlain came down from the skies and struck
him
down.

Rubens looked squarely at the supreme authority standing before him.

Throughout his life Burns could never escape his troubled relationship with his father.
After failing in business he became an alcoholic, then sought salvation from God and
turned his life around. He was a Christian who could never love his enemy.

This middle-aged man, Gregory S. Burns, was actually quite ordinary.

“I’d like to change the topic,” Burns said as he straightened various documents piled
on his desk. “Can Arthur leave the room, so we can speak alone? It’s about Mason.”

“Ah, I see,” Holland replied. Thomas Mason, the House majority leader, had apparently
been selected to be the new vice president.

“Could you wait outside?” Holland said, and Rubens obediently turned to leave.

“Mr. President, I apologize for what I said,” Rubens said. “I’m only concerned about
doing what’s best in the present crisis, and I’m afraid I said something I shouldn’t
have. I hope you’ll excuse me.”

“Just take care of the threat from the Congo,” is all Burns said, and waved him away.

Rubens left the Oval Office. Outside, the Yankee White officer with the nuclear football
at his feet was seated there as before. Rubens walked down the narrow hallway, back
to the lobby.

He sat down on the sofa, let out a big sigh, and buried his head in his hands. Up
until now he’d felt that deterring war involved dealing with the madness of political
leaders. Because no matter how many nuclear missiles a country might possess, in order
for them to be a threat you need a person who could push the switch. But the commander
in chief he’d just met was an ordinary person. A typical example of the human species.
In other words, given enough power, anyone might pick up the nuclear launch switch.
A person without imagination could, as long as it happened indirectly and far away,
easily start a war and kill untold masses of people.

Rubens looked back again on his journey, which had started at the Santa Fe research
lab. Dr. Heisman’s insight remained foremost in his mind.

Human beings, who have constantly killed each other over the past two hundred thousand
years, are always afraid of invasion by other groups. Constantly jumping at shadows
kept them in a nearly paranoid state, leading them to create nations as a defense
system. Mankind universally possesses this psychological state, so it’s regarded as
normal. It’s simply the “human condition.” And the reason we cannot achieve complete
peace is because inside each one of us lies proof positive that the Other is dangerous.
All humans are willing to hurt others in order to snatch away food, resources, and
land. We project our true colors onto our enemies, fear them, and attack them. And
in using violence against others, the nation and religion are the support systems
that pardon our actions. Our vicious deeds are defensible because people outside that
framework are aliens. The enemy.

Humans are able to shut their eyes to this immorality because there is no other intelligence
that criticizes slaughter within the same species. Even God encourages the killing
of heathens.

But now things were different. A different kind of intelligence, one that denounces
internecine struggle, had appeared on the African continent. And in order for people
to show any sort of dignity toward this being, who was closer to God than men were,
they had to turn their backs on their own animal nature and maintain peace.

But wasn’t that impossible?

“Rubens.”

He looked up and saw Holland standing above him. The CIA director had a sour look.
“What were you thinking? You’ve ruined everything.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“We were just talking about what to do with you.”

“Am I fired?” Rubens was ready to accept the worst.

“No. You’ll stay in your present job.”

Rubens thought this was odd, but then he realized that safety measures were still
in place. If the mission failed, he could be the sacrificial victim who would take
responsibility.

“However, all command authority will rest with Eldridge. You’ll just sit in the command
center.”

“I see.”

Holland brusquely headed toward the exit of the West Wing.