Overreach - 7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chris had never been to a Government Hall, and so when he arrived - nearly five minutes late - he hardly had time to notice or appreciate the gratuitous use of gargoyles, or the cathedral-like structure, or even the pristine dark red marble floors. He had a harried appearance; as if he had forgotten to turn off the oven at home, he seemed distracted and maybe even a little bit crazed.

But that didn’t make him any less of a genius.

He half walked, half ran to the room at the back of the structure, a colossal cavern with seats that look down upon a large, official table with some of the most important people in the Government: the Directors. This newly formed committee was made up of various Parliament members who were asked to investigate resources for criminal reform. They had no idea what kind of ‘criminal reform’ Chris was about to give them.

Chris ran through the very large, wooden doors, slamming them back in an unceremonious manner that caused many of the Directors to look up from their writing. Panting, Chris made his way over to the microphone, setting his briefcase next to it as the older, more distinguished lawmakers scowled at his lack of respect. Tapping the microphone after having it squeal for few seconds, Chris finally opened his mouth.

“Er, sorry,” he apologized after getting many exasperated looks. “I didn’t mean to be late.”

“This is fine, Mister…?” Questioned an older lady that seemed almost like a tough grandma. Chris realized that she was the Chairman of the whole thing.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he apologized. “Call me Chris, please.”

“Alright, Mr. Chris,” she drawled, a slight smirk overcoming her face before it was gone just as fast. “Now, what is it you’ve done?”

“Ma’am, gentlemen,” he said, nervous but practiced. “May it please this chamber. I have what I think is a perfect solution to your criminal… problem.”

An older, heavily jowled man spoke up. “Who are you again, son? Where do you come from?”

Chris quickly looked up at the man. “I’m from the technological division in the Ministry of Disbursement. We, uh, we’re not very well known yet.”

The bench chuckled slightly at that, as Chris paused to grab his suitcase. He looked back up sharply to the directors, looking at each of them in the face. “You have been saying - and I have read - that the world’s population is getting out of control, and more people are committing crimes, now, than that aren’t.” The bench mumbled to themselves.

He continued, “Well, the Ministry to Disbursment’s job is to figure out how much money to give to each citizen, you know, to help them out in life. But,” he paused, unlocking his suitcase, “I’ve been working on something else in my free time, and that is why I have requested your generous presence today.”

Chris lifted out a smooth black box that was about the size of an elementary school pencil box. “This,” he said, “will solve that problem. An unconventional amygdala matrix with integrative input and output options, with a 62.89% chance of phase withdrawal.”

One Director cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Chris?”

Chris sighed, and then simplified. “You can put people in here, Mr. Davenport. I say put any babies born to criminals in here. You won’t have a problem then, and we can safely sterilize our own population.”

The quiet was deafening. The woman was the first to speak again.

“And, how would we do this?”

Chris was quick to reply. “I have several nodes at home that I have put myself through.” He paused. “But I can’t do it anymore because of the phase withdrawal. It’ll damage me.”

“So, you’re saying we can’t put adults through this thing,” a wiry gentleman said. “Right?”

“No,” Chris said, a bit ruffled at the pointed question. “No. I’m saying is you can’t do it a lot. One time should be good enough for nearly everyone.” He paused again. “Babies can go through without incurring much damage at all - that’s why I said what I said.”

The Directors were quiet for about a minute. Then, they started to talk amongst themselves while Chris looked on awkwardly. Then, “Fine, son. Show us how it works, and then we’ll see.”

*      *      *

The lab was on the top floor of a run down government building on the edge of town. Around a black box stood all 7 of the Director Members, all dressed in everyday clothes, which, to Chris, looked off-putting. He scurried around the table and the Withdrawal Cage, hooking up various wires and testing on a telenode to make sure that they were working correctly.

He talked hurriedly while he worked. “Now,” he said, screwing something into the base of the Withdrawal Cage. “We all know that this criminal problem has been going on for damn near a century. Once the Government rose up to combat it was the only time that we’ve had prosperity in this country since my father was a boy. Deciding to put all those people in Moonshot was a wonderful idea.” Moonshot was a space prison. Well, that made it seem too simple.

See, the Government, or, the Federation of Allied States, was once a coalition of various groups that formed when the region collapsed in a war hundreds of years ago. The world was turning into anarchy, and the FAS rose up to the challenge. They systematically exterminated all homeless and childless inside their borders, and set up a social system that was frighteningly efficient. Any other people that were deemed unfit, but not so unfit to be killed, were sent to Moonshot, a colony on one of their two moons. There, they produced minerals to energize their country below. Again, it was very, very efficient.

But, within the last 40 years or so, their need for power and minerals have declined because they had found new technologies and power sources. The stuff coming from the moon was now inconsequential, and they were afraid that if they just kept sending more and more people up there, they would rebel and come back down to earth to slaughter all of the citizens. Privately, many lawmakers were concerned that they weren’t going to find a solution in time.

Until Chris.

Chris provided a nearly perfect solution. He explained that with enough nodes and Withdrawal Cages, you could hypothetically convert all the people you wanted to in a few days’ time. The information that could be stored in even a small server was a googolplex times more than anything that they had then at the moment. It was revolutionary. And scary.

“Alright, take this apple,” Chris said, handing the fruit to the older woman. She took it and then just kinda looked at it. Chris sighed. “Put it there,” he said, pointing to the middle of the cage. He was typing furiously on the same black box that he had brought earlier. She did as she was told, and then Chris typed a few more times. All of a sudden, a bright, white light beam shot from the top of the cage, down to the apple, which was enveloped in a kind of… blue energy. The more power it had behind it, the brighter it got, and soon enough people had to start looking away. It sounded like a drill mixed with a fax machine. Finally, there was a giant snap and the apple was gone, steam rising from its place.

The Directors were silent.

Chris smirked, overjoyed that the machine had not malfunctioned in some way.

“What happened to it?” The woman asked, eyeing the machine warily. “Where did it go?”

“It was broken at the molecular level to light photos, which were then converted into radio signals. Those signals were transferred to the external hard-drive there,” he said, pointing to the black box, “and are converted into data sets, which are represented with these shifting lines.” He had them look down at the box with all of it’s shifting red lines. “Now, the apple is inside the machine, which is created to mimic the real world.”

He brought out of his bag a larger telenode. He hooked it up to the black box, and an image appeared. It was a square, showing 1,000 miles long and wide. It looked like a map. “This is what people will see when they arrive.”

“It’s just a map,” said the thin, distinguished looking man. Another Director. “And this is what they’ll see?”

Chris had to stop himself from shaking his head in disgust. “No, no. Let me zoom in.” He did so, and the image changed very rapidly. Soon enough, they were looking above an apple lying in a field of grass.

Everyone looked at Chris expectantly. He nearly rolled his eyes. “That’s the apple. Look - it was bruised here. And here is the bruise.”

The Directors gasped nearly in unison. The women spoke. “Holy shit,” she said, letting the epithet accidentally fall out. “Pardon my language. But this is phenomenal. Can we document what you have here?”

Chris nodded. “Of course,” he paused. “But there is actually one condition.”

The woman looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. “And what would that be, Chris?”

He looked right back at her steadily. “I want to be head of whatever department will run this.” Before the group had a chance to voice their protests, he talked ahead of them. “I know, I know. You’ll have to pull strings, I get it.” The hubbub quieted down. “But I am adamant. I will not sell this to the Government unless I have what I want on file and in writing.” He smirked. “I know the telenode archives can be altered.”

The woman looked at him with a mixture of awe and disdain. “Fine,” she finally spoke. “We’ll contact who we need to. Now, can we document this?”

“Not until you write it out. Here,” Chris said, “I have a piece of paper and a pen. Write.” He put them down on the table. The woman now looked at him with a very severe look, but complied. After she wrote out what he wanted, and he was satisfied, the Directors took turns looking at the schematics of the device, taking pictures, and asking questions, some of which were more in depth than what Chris figured they’d know. He filed that away for later. Once they had crawled all over his work, they put their things away and started to leave.

Chris stopped the woman at the door. “Mrs. Director, ma’am, can I have a moment?”

The woman stopped and turned to him with a different expression than he had seen earlier. “Please, call me Angela.”

“Angela,” Chris tried out. “Look, I only want this position because this is my baby… I have worked on this thing, or at least some iteration of it, since grad school. If someone else became in charge of it… I’m not sure if it would be to your… specifications.”

Angela raised her eyebrow again. “And what do you mean by that?”

Chris answered quickly. “Some of the technology in this device can be used for other things - other things that are plausible, but I have yet to develop. And, I’m just warning you. If I’m not running this, and someone else figures out what you could or couldn’t do with some of the technology… well, it just wouldn’t be good.”

She recoiled. “What?! What do you mean?”

Chris looked like he regretted admitting that. He sighed. “Some of the research that I had to do along with this is molecular engineering. I mean, how else are you able to convert solid matter into waveform?” He paused. “Regardless, it means that, hypothetically, you would be changing the genetic and molecular makeup of anyone that goes through. It’s just a side effect.”

The women looked at him without expression. “And this… molecular engineering. How else could it be used?”

Chris grimaced. “It’s best if I tell you some other time, Director.”

Two Years Later

“You’re what?!” Chris yelled, standing up from his desk in a sudden, jerky movement. The other five people in the room were the remaining Directors. Two had died and Chris thought that he had a chance to make the Board. But instead he was being fired.

“I am sorry, Chris,” Angela said, stepping closer to him and his desk. She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy one. “We discussed your application and addition to the Board, and, unfortunately, there was sufficient motivation to let you go completely.” She looked around at the other Directors, who nodded along with her.

“How could you do this?” He said in a supremely hurt voice. “I had you write it down! I-”

“I’m sorry, Chris,” Angela countered quickly. “The Board makes all decisions unanimously. And all decisions are final. Please gather your things and-”

Chris narrowed his eyes at them, sensing something suspicious. “Is this about Operation Overreach?” He expelled a long breath. “I told you it was all hypothetical! I haven’t even put most of the equations into the system yet!”

The woman smirked. “Well, not to worry, Chris.” She drawled. “We’ve found a way to. So, this will be none of your worries.”

“WHAT?” He yelled, causing most of the people in the room to jump involuntarily. “You have to be shitting me. You guys are a bunch of fucking idiots. You know nothing - and, you know what?” He picked up his telenode and threw what he was holding - instruction manuals - to their feet. “Fine! I quit. If something goes wrong,” he said, ominously, as he hurried past them to the door. “Don’t fucking call me.”

The room was quiet after Chris had left. Finally, the woman spoke. “Alright, guys, let’s get this show on the road.”