VirtuaScape

Chapter 1

She moved to the side as he stepped up behind the podium. Hands clasped, her smile beamed for the cameras. She glanced about the great hall, as the roar of the applause continued. He nodded, he waived, he smiled. His magazine cover picture perfect smile beamed across the airwaves and conduits, appearing in living rooms across America, and across the world. At her side was her daughter, her son-in-law, and the light of her life, her granddaughter. The little darling stood just in front of them, her tiny hand raised in a wave. The great hall thundered with applause. Grace Alexander was humbled by the crowd’s adoration of her husband. It had been a long campaign trail to reach this point. After so many appearances, in so many venues, and so many sacrifices, the time had finally come. Debate after debate, had finally lead up to this pinnacle. It was the final point of the preliminary elections in this political race. Mason Alexander was about to accept the nomination from his party.

He raised his hands, yet the teaming mass of waving flags and banners beneath the stage continued to vibrate. The cheering grew louder, even as he sought to bring them to silence. He smiled. He nodded, and once again raised his arms into the air. The crowd began to quiet. He nodded, looked around the room, and brought his hands down to the podium. The room went completely silent.

Hallelujah! He said into the microphone. The crowd exploded into a frenzy. He glanced at Grace, saw her smile, and the tears in her eyes. His smile grew even brighter. He cast his gaze across the crowd, and raised one hand. The applause began to diminish, until once again the room was silent. He looked down at the podium for a measured count. Ladies and gentlemen, honored Senators, fellow members of the Freedom Republic Party...and my brothers and sisters in the eyes of our Lord...I accept your nomination as your candidate, for the President of the Republic of America. Again the crowd erupted into applause. Confetti began to fall from the ceiling, raining down into the celebration below. News directors quickly directed scene cuts to show multiple shots of the screaming and applauding people within the crowd. They hugged, they danced, they waived banners over their heads. On cue, the scene cut back to the podium.

Today, Mason began, but waited for the room to fall quiet. Today, is just the beginning. There are many months to go, many rows to hoe, and miles to walk before I sleep. Today, we embark on this journey...we do this together...we do this for our nation. And when I say we, I mean we! Once again the applause filled the room, before falling back into silence. With your help, with your support, we can win this election, and take back the Whitehouse. We can undo the wrongs done by the current administration. We can put right the injustices that have befallen our nation. We can again rise up to the greatness that our nation once enjoyed. We can again become a shining example in the world community. And once and for all, we can put the power back in the hands of we, the people!

Each of the audience members received simultaneous message alerts on their Smart Contact, a small contact lense like device, that delivered real time data superimposed across their vision. The message said, applause. The crowd erupted with cheers. Mason scanned the room, giving the applause the full five seconds, as scripted, before he began again. On the mark, audience members received another message. Silence. The crowd fell silent. The next part of Mason’s speech began to scroll across his vision.

It is a time of change in our great nation. A time to turn back the clock to a better life. A time to bring American jobs home again. A time to put a stop to the forced conscription of our children into the armed services. A time to restore the freedoms that our mothers, fathers, sons and daughters have fought and died for. And a time to stop the religious persecution of Christians in this nation! The crowd erupted. This nation... he yelled into the mike, Under God... The crowd continued to roar. Shall have a new birth of freedom!

Tears streamed down Grace’s face, as she held little Bradlie tight in front of her. A quick glance at her daughter, and she could see tears in Sarah’s eyes as well. Even John, all six foot two of him, had a glistening in his eyes, as he held tightly to Sarah’s hand. True, it was not the first time that Grace had heard this speech. Not even the second time, since Mason had been practicing it for weeks. But it was the first time she had really experienced it, and the emotion of it overwhelmed her. She held her granddaughter tighter as she began to realize what the words her husband spoke so eloquently would mean to Bradlie’s future. If there was even the slightest chance, that her precious little Bradlie could escape the mandatory military service once she graduated high school, or that she could openly worship God without risk of attack, or that she might one day know the freedom to choose her own destiny, Grace would do anything to help. Mason raised his hands, and the crowd went quiet.

I say to you, that with your help, we will bring about change. Change that will return this government to the people. That, once again, we will become a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. And that on my watch, this government shall not perish from the earth. A brief applause erupted and then quickly went silent. It is you that have brought me to this place, this threshold in human history. And it is by the hand of the Lord that I stand before you, ready to fight these battles, these injustices. And it is by Grace... He paused and motioned towards his wife. Grace stepped towards him, and he wrapped his arm around her. It is by Grace, both the grace of God, and my lovely wife here, right honey? She smiled and nodded. It is by Grace, that I accept your nomination. The crowd cheered, reacting to the messages received on their Smart Contacts. Mason and Grace waived to the room, and to the cameras. Sarah and John waived to the crowd. Little Bradlie skipped the few steps to reach her grandmother, and wrapped her arms around her legs in a big hug. Grace smiled.

Within minutes, the primary news networks had cut their feeds, most cutting to the breaking news at the California/Southwestern Union border, where Chinese troops were said to be amassing for military exercises. For over fifty years, the Chinese had occupied what was once the state of California, and defending that border from invasion had cost countless American lives. The pundits on the variety of news channels assured the viewers that the newest developments could lead to full scale war at any moment, and that viewers should continue to watch their coverage for the latest information.

This body armor is killing me. Mason told the two agents from his personal Secret Service detail as they surrounded him on stage. Frank Lee, the older agent, ignored his complaint, as he carefully eyed the audience while they filed out of the auditorium.

No. Steve Wells, the other agent interjected. It is saving you.

Come on, guys. The whole crowd was thoroughly vetted.

There’s no such thing. Lee said. Wells nodded in agreement.

Hon? Grace said. We’re going to head back to the hotel.

It won’t be long. Mason replied. They just want a few publicity shots. He said, as he nodded towards the approaching photographer. He gave her a quick kiss, before he turned and shook the photographer’s hand. Grace held Bradlie’s hand as they made their way back stage, with Sarah and John close behind

Grandma? Bradlie asked.

Yes, sweety? Grace replied.

Are you coming home with us?

Not right now, sweety. We’re headed back to the hotel.

Not tonight, silly. I mean tomorrow. Are you coming home with us tomorrow?

I wish I could, Bradlie. I wish I could.

But, Grandma...you said.

I know, sweety, and I promise I will...soon.

But, Grandma...that’s what you always say!

I know dear, I know. But I need to help Grandpa. He needs me.

I need you, Grandma. The words stabbed her through the heart. Grace needed her too. They had been campaigning for almost two years so far, and there was still another six months to go. Bradlie was only six. Grace had been separated from her for a full third of her short life, with no immediate end in site.

I know, sweety. And Grandma needs you too. Her vision blurred as she fought back her tears.

Hey, Mom. Sarah called from behind.

Yeah, baby.

Why don’t you get VirtuaScape? That way you can visit her all the time.

Virtua... Grace began.

VirtuaScape. John interjected. It’s a new gadget, kind of like 3-d, a little like the Smart Contact augmented reality, but way more impressive.

I vid with her all the time already. Grace replied. I don’t need 3-d to see how beautiful she is. She said, and gave Bradlie a big smile.

Oh, Grandma, it’s a lot cooler than 3-d. She answered, a big grin on her face. It’s real.

Oh, is it little lady. And just what do you know about it? You’re only six.

And a half! I’m practically seven, Grandma.

She uses it for tutoring. Sarah said.

Tutoring? Grace asked.

Yeah. John answered. Bradlie’s teacher gave us a heads up that she was falling behind on her math skills.

She’s only in the first grade! Grace exclaimed.

Mom, there is math in the first grade, you know.

But it can’t be that hard.

It’s not. Unless you don’t understand it. Sarah replied.

I didn’t unnerstand it, Grandma. Bradlie said, shaking her head.

The school added VirtuaScape tutoring last year. John said. And I already had the unit. We use it in my job.

Medical research? How does 3-d help with that.

Like Bradlie said, Grace. It’s a lot more than 3-d. It’s a completely immersive experience. We use it to run virtual lab tests, and test theories before proceeding in the real world.

And the Bradster here, began Sarah, uses it for tutoring.

It’s really cool, Grandma. It’s just like being there with the teacher. And when I do good, I get to play games with it too!

Oh come on, games? Grace asked, rolling her eyes. Who has time to play games?

You do, Grandma. And you can play them with me!

She’s right, you know. Sarah said. I just downloaded a princess tea party plugin. Both of you could sit down and have a virtual tea party, no matter where you were, Mom.

Really, Mom? We could? Bradlie asked Sarah excitedly. Awe, Grandma, you just gotta!

I don’t know, sweetheart. It took me forever to figure how to use the video app.

Nothing to it, Grace. I’ll get you set up before we leave tomorrow. John said. It’s really easy to use.

See Grandma, Daddy said he will set it up for you. Please? Grace stopped walking. She bent down and grabbed her granddaughter in her arms and lifted her up. With a smile, she kissed her nose.

For you buttercup, I think I will.

Promise? Bradlie asked. Grace smiled.

Promise. She said. Suddenly her answer was cut off by a muffled explosion that rocked the building. Bits of debris rained down on them in the narrow hallway.

Bomb! John yelled. Grace looked up at him, confused.

This way! Sarah yelled as she grabbed Bradlie and ran down the hall, the bomb alert message still flashed across her Smart Contact display. John hustled Grace after them, as she noticed the message that she had also received. A bomb had just exploded at the front of the building. They rounded the last corner of the hallway, and reached the two Secret Service agents assigned to Grace. Both had weapons drawn, pointed towards the ceiling.

This way! Agent Roderico Gomez yelled, as he hustled them towards the rear exit. The other agent kicked open the door, and moved into a crouch, checking the alleyway. Shots rang out. The glass in the door just behind him shattered, as bullets peppered the door. He returned fire. Gomez, stepped up and fired down the alley, just as a black armored vehicle slid to a stop in front of the door. The side doors of the boxy vehicle flung open. Move! Move! Move! Gomez yelled. Sarah ran the gap between the building and the vehicle, shielding her daughter with her own body. Bullets zipped by, as Gomez tossed a smoke grenade towards the attackers. John rushed Grace across the gap, just as Sarah disappeared inside. The grenade exploded on contact with the ground flinging bits of heavily smoking streams in every direction. Shots continued to fly, and pinged off of the doorway and vehicle beside it. A blanket of dense smoke quickly filled the alley.

Rod! Grace yelled. The agent glanced at her, but turned back and fired down the alley. John shoved her inside, and fell in himself. The door slammed shut. Gomez, pounded bullet proof glass to signal the driver to leave, just as a bullet pierced his throat. A burst of crimson showered the side window, as the vehicle began to accelerate away. Gomez fell to the ground, one hand on his throat. His other hand fired his weapon down the alley one last time, before it fell from his dead hand.

Bullets continued to ricochet off of the rear of the escaping vehicle, as it slid around the corner and accelerated into traffic, sideswiping a small car into the next lane. The driver continued to accelerate, bumping the van in front of them off of the road. He swerved into the middle lane to avoid the vehicles stopped at the light ahead, and yanked the wheel to the right as he burst into the intersection. As the heavy armored vehicle slid sideways, it rocked up on two wheels. Traction caught, and the driver hammered the accelerator down. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from the navigation system.

Target Lock. A female voice said.

Hold on! The driver said, as he saw both the alarm and the rear view monitor superimposed on his field of vision. He watched in horror as the man standing in the middle of the street behind them, holding the rocket propelled grenade launcher, disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Automatically, the nav system fired counter measures from the rear of the vehicle. The grenade exploded in mid air just ten feet away. The blast lifted the still spinning rear tires off of the ground. When they landed, smoke poured from them as they fought to gain traction. The driver spun the wheel against the slide, and pumped the brake. The tires caught, and the acceleration slammed him back in his seat. Bradlie squealed behind him. Sarah held her tight.

On the rear view monitor, the driver saw the man bring the rocket launcher up to his shoulder again. Not waiting for another chance for the vehicle to escape the attacker fired right away, without a target lock. The driver cut the wheel left, and sideswiped a steel barrier. Sparks flew as metal screamed against metal. The grenade whistled past them to the right, and exploded up ahead. He cut the wheel back to the right, and barely missed the crater. Behind them, the shooter once again raised the launcher. The driver watched, as he prepared to evade the next shot. Suddenly the screen flared an intense white, cleared, and the shooter was no longer there. The grenade launcher had misfired. The shooter was blown to pieces.

Chapter 2

The replay of Mason Alexander’s speech ended, and Bazir Malek waived his hand and muted the vid screen. A news channel continued on in silence. Images of the evening’s attack flashed by as the ticker at the bottom of the screen listed fifty three people dead, and one hundred twenty seven injured. Reshmina, Bazir’s wife, stood quietly next to his chair.

Well? Roger Bishop, Bazir’s campaign manager asked.

He has a way with words. Bazir replied quietly.

That’s no surprise. We knew he has charisma on his side. But Bazir, you know that was all staged, right?

Does it matter?

Of course it matters.

Then how? Explain that to me. Explain to me, how it matters if the speech was staged. Explain to me how it matters if the audience’s reaction was staged? Bazir rose from his seat. Explain to me, Roger, how any of that matters, when he can weave together such words, and create such passion in the hearts of men. Explain to me, if you would, how we have even the remotest chance to win this election, when even I was inspired by his words.

Look, Bazir-

No, Roger. You look. The first debate is in a matter of days. Tell me how I will face this man, with his innate ability to string together words that will cause voters to rise up and storm the polls on his behalf. What is your answer to this, Roger?

Bazir. Reshmina said softly.

No, Reshmina. Let Mr. Bishop provide his answer.

Bazir, it was just one speech. At their convention no less. You know how it is. At our own convention wasn’t the crowd cued on when to cheer, when to applaud? Roger stood up. It’s all a big production. A theatrical show! You know this.

"Yes.