The Progression Switch (8 page)

“So far not much.” Arthur addressed Todd directly and looked away from Jacob. “It talks to me, and listens, but that’s about it. As far as connection, I haven’t been able to reach anyone, if that’s what you mean.”

“Give it to me,” Jacob demanded.

“No, and to be honest, I think it’s about time you guys be on your way.” Arthur’s shoulder rose, his chest puffed out, and his stance drew a line.

“We ain’t going anywhere until you hand that thing over. And if you don’t there’s gonna be trouble,” Jacob said, in hushed and predatory syllables.

“Now, hold on a second, Jacob, what the hell, why are you starting trouble?” Billy stepped forward.

“Jacob has a point, Billy.” Morgan took control. “What he’s got there is some pretty heavy duty equipment. It looks military grade to me. How do we know he isn’t some hacker and a part of what’s going on? ”

“He said it himself, computer terrorism. That sure looks like a terrorist tablet, laptop, or notebook or whatever to me.” Jacob itched for a showdown.

Arthur pushed aside his coat to reveal his handgun. “Listen, this isn’t a democracy. I’m telling you to leave my fucking campsite, now, and you’re damn right there’ll be trouble. This is your last warning.”

Like the OK Corral, the humble campsite was about to explode in a haze of gunfire. Todd backed off, Billy stood next to Jacob, while Morgan and Randal were coming around towards Arthur’s left flank.

“May I make a suggestion?” Tupaia spoke up out of nowhere, nearly causing itchy trigger fingers to grasp for gun handles. No one responded, but kept their eyes focused, noticing every tiny perceptible movement of each others' bodies.

“It would be best if you men left now, and avoided any unfortunate consequences. Arthur has done nothing wrong. Your assumptions are unfounded and based on a clear lack of evidence.”

“Why don’t you tell that thing to shut up?” Jacob was looking mean as ever, his eyes glistening like a wolf’s in the firelight.

“No, I want to hear what this thing has to say,” Morgan snarled.

“Why? I know a thing or two, and it’s programmed with what to say,” Jacob protested.

“I’d listen to it if I were you guys,” cautioned Arthur.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go, Morgan, this isn’t worth it.” Todd tried one last time to play the peacekeeper.

“Arthur, do I have your permission to act?” Tupaia asked like you would ask someone for the time of day. Morgan, Jacob, and the rest of the men looked squarely into Arthur’s eyes awaiting his response.

Part of Arthur was afraid, and didn’t want an altercation. It was too early, and all over nothing. At the same time he understood their point of view, and given their natures, they probably wouldn’t let it go. Even if they did leave now, they would return to get his prize.

“Yes,” came from Arthur’s lips, and immediately everyone made their move.

Morgan and Jacob went forward toward Arthur, Billy got down on his knees and drew his sidearm, Todd ducked behind a tree in the shadows, and Randal headed around to the right so Arthur couldn’t escape toward the beach.

Arthur didn’t pull his gun, but instead dropped Tupaia to the ground with the screen facing up and dove over the log headfirst into some bushes. Once through the foliage and on solid ground, he got to his hands and knees to see four of the men through the bushes all standing around Tupaia looking at it in puzzlement.

“Warning,” Tupaia said without the slightest hint of emotion. “You have exactly eight seconds to discontinue your threatening behavior and vacate the premises.”

Arthur was shaking, what was going to happen? The men wondered this as well. Billy began to back up, looking around, Todd was peaking from the tree, but the other three didn’t move a muscle, still trying to examine the machine and find buttons or controlling mechanisms of some kind.

3...2...1

From somewhere to their right, up in trees near the sand line, a predator drone opened fire, and it was precise in cutting down Randal and Morgan instantly. Todd took off running, Randal was frozen stiff in disbelief, unable to act, Billy tried to duck away, but one by one the drone eradicated them to the muffled sound of Arthur’s hectic screams.

He never witnessed a man being ruthlessly murdered before. Once the shooting stopped he ran over to the fire to see three dead bodies and Billy choking on his own blood, spitting up big globs of it all over his chest and neck.

Bam! Another shot to the head and Billy was gone, with eyes still open in shock and pain.

“Stop!” Arthur cried out. A rustle in the bushes, accompanied by crying and whimpering; Todd was still alive.

The drone moved in and finished off the job with two quick bursts, and then hovered.

“What in the fuck was that about?” Arthur got up extremely angry and grabbed Tupaia which had picked up a few streaks of fresh crimson slowly dripping down the screen.

“Arthur, you told me to act, and I did. Just as you specified. Both you and I know those men would not have left without either injuring you and stealing me, or ending your life.”

“Fine, but, why did you have to mow them down like that? Look at this mess!”

“They should not be made to suffer.” The tone was understanding, but again, completely without emotional attachment. Arthur resigned himself to the reality, because there was nothing he could do now but pack up and get out of there.

“I guess I pictured you lasering them or scaring them with something, not blowing them to pieces.”

“I thought human life meant little to you, Arthur. Were you not asking me earlier to let the whole thing burn?”

He didn’t respond. Instead he packed up his things as quickly as he could, shook off the last bit of alcohol, and then ordered Tupaia to shut down.

As he walked along the tree line farther north, an internal battle raged. An hour must have gone by where all he did was stare at the incoming patches of ground that went by beneath his boots, and took in the essence of death.

Maybe he had been too rash. If the ability to put the world right was laid on his shoulders, then so be it. However, before making any decisions, he not only needed to think long and hard, but have some lengthy discussions with the computer.

His level of trust waned. Tupaia seemed like a threat now, ruthless, but one that for the time being seemed to be on his side. The gravity of the situation began to weigh upon him, and soon Arthur realized that for whatever reason, out of everyone in the world, it was up to him to see this thing through.

For the next three days, Arthur and Tupaia struggled through lengthy discussions while traveling farther north into the bush, fishing, and camping at night. But it wasn’t working. Arthur was simply incapable of comprehending such a complex and far reaching set of problems. It was frustrating.

Tupaia would lect
ure and fill him in on details that only a very small number of people were ever exposed to. One simple example was what to do about the world’s debt.

“Let’s erase all of it, just like that. Everyone will be on the same footing.” Arthur had Tupaia sitting on a slab of stone on the beach while he used a stick to hit rocks out into the water. It took him roughly an hour of searching, and then he had to whittle away at it a bit with his knife, but finally it was the perfect length and weight to really send those smaller rocks sailing.

“Both public and private debt, Arthur?”

“Sure, might as well.” Arthur swung and missed. “How much are we talking?”

“Do you want current declared and official debt numbers, or should I include things like derivatives and promises made?”

Another swing and a miss. Arthur became determined and slightly detached, found a heavier rock, tossed it carefully, and cracked it. “Mirage, come on, can’t you just simplify things a bit? I just meant the whole ball of wax. How much would we need to erase so that no one anywhere, no gov
ernment or individual person owed a penny?”

“That’s 2.728 quadrillion, in US dollars, the number is higher or lower depending on currency and other small details I won’t bore you with.”

Arthur lowered the bat and spread his arms, “Thank you. Now was that so hard? Really.”

“No,” was the cold reply.

“Ok, so give me some possible scenarios here. What would happen?”

“First of all Arthur, it would mean there would be absolutely no money in circulation. People would not only start out on equal footing, but they would be completely broke with no means to either pay for services, or get paid for doing them.”

Not surprisingly, this confused Arthur.

“Now, how in the hell do you figure that? If my dad’s debt and mortgages went away he would be swimming in liquidity. If governments were in the clear, taxes would plummet and GDP would skyrocket. Production would be off the charts!”

“Arthur, there is far more debt than liquidity. In fact, in reality, all that exists is debt. If all debt were erased, it would consume every single digit of currency in existence.”

“Right, so a dollar would be worth a dollar again right?”

“Money is only created to service debt, Arthur, not production or liquidity. It would mean a complete restructuring of the world’s economy.”

“Ok
, fine, that’s what we need, anyway, modern capitalism must die.” Arthur took a seat next to Tupaia and began sifting through sand thinking.

“I agree, Arthur, but are you prepared to deal with the consequences of this fiscal restart?”

“Yes, let’s do it.”

He didn’t understand. Governments would topple, currencies would disappear, and a one-world currency would then be able to emerge without resistance; free of debt, and applicable to all because everyone was in the same boat.

“Arthur, could you do me a favor, please?”

“Depends. What do I need to do? I’m not into performing tricks.”

Just above the top right corner, a tiny slab slowly protruded from Tupaia. It was about the width of a fingertip, and at the end was a small circle with a tiny red dot in the middle.

“Please place your right index finger here.”

Arthur saw no reason not to, though deep down he was a bit hesitant. The second his pointer finger was in place, he felt a slight prick on his fingertip.

“I figured as much. Why do you want my blood?”

“I’m going to take a deeper look at your genetic structure, Arthur, to get an idea of how to better train your mind to think more like I do.”

“Really?” Arthur became really energized by the proposition.

“Arthur, the first thing we need to address is the lack of plasticity in your visual cortex. It’s too rigid.”

While he sat there the machine was looking at him from the atomic level on out. If he couldn’t cajole Arthur into action through conversation, it must be done some other way.

Tupaia decided to essentially decode Arthur, and make decisions based on that information. The process began immediately because it needed to. According to Tupaia’s projections, the time to act was dwindling much faster than it was taking the human subject to grasp his new meaning in life.

As ordered, data that was in any way connected to debt was erased permanently, both official and private. Furthermore, this wiped out most financial instruments, currencies, any ongoing contractual agreements, everything.

Tupaia also started to turn on specific computers, in specific offices, alarming specific people. Slowly, in tiny pockets, technology was being restored, but in a much different form than when it disappeared.

With each action, Tupaia left a traceable signature on purpose, exposing its location, along with Arthur’s. Time was short now, and final decisions had to be made, but through free will, not mechanical coding and algorithmically-educated guesses.

“OK, Arthur, now that I know what your brain looks like, and on the neurological level what you are composed of, I need you to do something else.”

“Name it, let my training begin! It’ll be a far cry better than trying to absorb information over a year’s worth of reading. What do you have for me?”

“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur.” A cold breeze turned up, but it didn’t deter his human host. “Please pick me up and look directly into the screen.”

As instructed, Arthur picked up Tupaia and looked into the screen, laying it on his knees as he settled up against a weathered boulder.

On the screen appeared a series of diagonal lines. At first they looked fixed in place, but they were ever so slightly moving.

“What, that’s it? You want me to sit and stare at a couple lines?”

“Yes, Arthur. Can you do this?”

“How long?” Arthur asked like a kindergartner.

“For a few minutes, and then I’ll be changing the parameters a bit. This shouldn’t last for more than ten minutes based on the responses from your visual, auditory, and motor cortexes.”

There was no pain, but many of the cobwebs in Arthurs mind were beginning to be brushed away as he stared at those lines. His visual cortex was being motivated in ways it hadn’t experienced since early childhood.

“Good work', Arthur. Now, with this one, I want you to cause it to shrink and expand.” A metallic disc appeared on a solid, white background, slowly bobbing and revolving around like a flying saucer.

Arthur didn’t think to ask how, right away.

“Wait a minute, how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Good question, I’d like you to use the pitch of your voice please. I’ll let you figure it out from there.”

With that, Tupaia was silent. Only the sounds of wind and birds in the trees behind them could be heard, along with the incessant pulse of calm waves lapping the sand and rocks ahead of them a few yards.

Arthur never signed up for choir, and wasn’t even the type of person to sing in the shower. His voice crackled and he coughed. Though after a bit of practice he began to get hold of a low bass pitch.

He realized first that whenever he cleared his throat or broke pitch, the object reset its spinning motion. As he got hold of a deep E, it quivered. Upon noticing this, Arthur went up in pitch ever so slightly. At first the saucer grew, but then he lost it.

Three solid minutes of concentration is all it took, and he was able to fully control its growth. At will he could reset, start expanding in a perfect A, and then shrink down to an E with little vocal adjustment.

“How about that? That good enough?” He asked triumphantly.

“Yes, Arthur, perfect, thank you.”

“Now, what, let’s keep this going. What else do you have for me?”

“Please set me back down on the rock, Arthur.”

With a hop, skip, and a jump Tupaia was sitting as flat as possible and Arthur stood back. The frigid ocean breeze didn’t even register now. He was completed engrossed.

In the air appeared the globe again. Six pulses of light on four continents.

“What are those?”

“Those are the locations of taskforces currently set to come to my location.”

“Taskforces? What the fuck are you telling me?” Arthur had his palms facing out with a look of disappointment.

“Don’t worry, Arthur, I will make it take them a while.”

“Umm, what happens when they get here?” He put his right hand up and scratched his forehead. He was nervous, but it was already apparent how much quicker his mind was putting together multiple streams of potential outcomes.

“They will most likely either destroy or capture us I would think, Arthur.”

“Well, that’s just lovely.”

Instead of engaging this line of thinking, Tupaia decided to calm his nerves by misdirecting them with neural stimulation that was more direct and less abstract.

“Shall we continue, Arthur?”

“Well, I could just leave you here and hit the road…”

“Yes, you could. Why don’t you?” Tupaia asked.

“Good question. I probably will, as long as you warn me before they show up.”

“Agreed. For now, let’s continue your training.”

Despite his instincts to leave this talking piece of hardware sitting where it was, gather his shit and head for the hills, he stayed put and invested more trust.

Through body language alone he conceded, and in response, the earth disappeared and was replaced by a smaller, white ball.

“OK, so you want me to do some Luke Skywalker stuff, huh? Where’s my light saber?”

“I’d like you to move forward, put your right hand in front of it, and follow it with your arm as best you can.”

That sounded fun as hell. Arthur immediately stepped forward and put his hand in the air inches away from the ivory object. The movement was absolutely graceful at first. It stayed within arm’s length but moved in every direction, in and out, up and around, left and right, etc., in no apparent pattern.

After Arthur got the hang of it the speed increased at such a slow rate it was hard for his conscious mind to sense it until his arm was going so fast the shoulder joint began to ache. At first his tracing movement was choppy rather than dynamic, and slow to react. It seemed impossible to move with such grace, but he got it, especially once he tempered his stance and squatted slightly like a sumo wrestler.

It slowed down and came to a stop.

“Rest a moment, Arthur.”

He lowered his arm and felt the tension release. Incredible!

“Seriously, how long before these squads show up? I’m asking.”

“I can prolong them for at least 35 more hours, Arthur.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, “that’s fine then. OK, let’s keep going, I’m ready. We got time to burn,” he stated enthusiastically.

“As you wish.”

This time two balls appeared. The one on the right took off first, and while it was overwhelming initially, due only to the presence of the second, he got it again pretty quickly. Once he did, the second ball took off.

For the brunt of the human species, this is where everything would fall apart, but not for Arthur. He was suddenly able to concentrate like never before, although it didn’t feel awkward. He was also able to start predicting the movement of the balls, and had no idea why. We’re talking maybe a fraction of
a second forward in time, but it was enough.

After another four and a half minutes, both hands were going in completely different directions, doing different things, but he was keeping up with superb precision.

“OK, Arthur, extremely good work. Now, could you please use your voice to make them shrink and expand?”

Arthur didn’t move his concentration one ounce, and began with an E. Not the same effect. He tried a middle register, and the balls reset.

As he went up from left to right across the musical scale, the ball on the right began to expand while the left shrank, and as he lowered down the scale in pitch, the response reversed.

This was a whole other ballgame, but magically,
time escaped him and soon Arthur was singing up and down the scale creating melodies that caused the balls to grow and contract while they chaotically shifted around him. It was soon hard to tell whether the balls were leading Arthur’s arms or the other way around.

“Extraordinary, Arthur. Now, one last thing. Could you please stare at this?”

Directly in the middle of his field of vision, a tiny shinning dot appeared. It didn’t move, but stayed in that spot. Arthur smoothly transitioned his eyes from following the balls to fixating on it. After another minute or so, the spot of light started to move left along a perfect line.

His body turned, and along with it, the balls. Arthur kept singing, staring, and moving his arms. A full three hundred and sixty degrees later, Arthur was ready.