Vanishing Light

VANISHING LIGHT

by

ROBERT N. STEPHENSON

Produced by ReAnimus Press

© 2018 by Robert N. Stephenson. All rights reserved.

http://ReAnimus.com/store?author=robertnstephenson

Cover Art by Clay Hagebusch

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

They walked for several hours in the same direction, no ups or downs, no turns, no change in the blackness or the sound of the generators. Kyle felt tired; he wanted to sit down and rest, but Darwin-Jones pushed him forward with the point of the knife. Another hour had passed before Kyle stopped.

What is it? Darwin-Jones said, stopping several paces back.

We go down here.

Where? I don’t see anything. Where’s the lift tube, the stairs?

The lift tube will appear when we reach it, not before, Kyle said, turning to face Darwin-Jones. When it shows we will have only a few minutes to enter. It will not appear a second time for us. Kyle shrugged. A security measure I installed before this place was sealed up.

A stupid measure, if you ask me. Darwin-Jones stepped up to Kyle.

Once everything was in place and the world was set running, I reprogrammed the entire facility only to recognize me. He turned on Darwin-Jones. This lift will only arrive a second time if I explicitly ask it to. He smiled at the thought. So, in a way, you are as much my prisoner as I am yours.

Chapter One

AD 2152

The future of humanity rested on a handshake and Kyle Raymond’s palms were sweaty. The future looked bad and the world’s corporations didn’t want to end the status quo. Likewise, governments sided with this view. Kyle stared at the wall screen behind his desk and sighed. The new world wasn’t simple and it wouldn’t be easy to manage, but it was necessary. On the screen the construction site was massive, the largest site of human development in all history, and the single most consuming sinkhole for the remaining resources of several industrialized nations and one island country. Today he would turn another government against him, at least until he could find a sweetening deal to placate their limited view of the future.

We agree, the voice said. Kyle took a deep breath of relief. The final hurdle to salvation had been jumped.

I thank you, Gunrrarra, Kyle said, turning to face the black man. Your people will be the first to benefit from the new beginning, this...

No white fella lies, Kyle, the elder said, raising his hand. Gunrrarra represented the combined tribes of Australia and the wealthiest people in the world after the Uluru Treaty of 2107. You make our dreaming real and we make your dreaming real.

Kyle nodded, reached out his hand and grasped the elder’s; they both squeezed slightly; the final seal on the deal. It was all Gunrrarra required. There were a few legal documents that needed signing but most of the deal was based on honour and trust, something Kyle had taken the last twenty years to learn, and earn, from these proud and insightful people.

We will supply all you need to complete the construction but we will not work for you. My people no longer toil for the needs of the whites. Once everything is ready we will take our place as first in line. The man spoke softly, his voice a low caress of words seldom used.

I have thousands working on the system that will govern what we, together, will create, Kyle said. Many will die before this great deed is complete, but with the use of the personality scans I think we can...

Technology is your business, not mine, the Aboriginal elder pronounced.

Once everything is ready, I will contact you. Kyle smiled at the elder and his two fellow elders, who stood silently at the rear of the room.

Until we meet again may your dreams be as one with ours. Gunrrarra offered a little laugh, as he turned and left.

As the door hissed closed and Kyle felt the weight of two years of negotiations slide from his shoulders, he sat back at his desk, leaned his hand against its surface and waited.

Request, the desk asked.

Call, Kyle said. Locate Stans at the site and tell him the tribes have agreed to not only supplying us the power but also much of the materials as well. Kyle looked at his hands and noticed they were shaking. Have him come back to Adelaide on the next flyer.

Do you require playback? the desk crooned.

Just send.

Message sent. The desk fell silent for a moment. Message arrived at the destination.

The wall glowed with the half finished ‘Capitol of Humanity’; sitting stark against the red of South Australia’s central desert like a growing, grey cage. The early construction work reached two hundred metres into the cloudless azure of the sky, while its length of five kilometres and depth of one made it a growing monolith to rival even the great red rock of Uluru. Below the red, sandy surface the construction reached down four kilometres towards the core of the dying Earth. It was here another great marvel was taking place.

Sub-level eighty viewing station, Kyle said to the wall. The image changed to a murky haze as seen through a picture frame. In the murk, he could see the excavation robots, the building engines and their little nano-controlled helpers creating the next wonder of human ingenuity. In the depths of the Earth, these machines were constructing five massive GeoThermoElectric generators. Enough free power to feed the world for a thousand years, if they could get the thing working properly. In the deep cavern underground, cutting edge of technology reinvented itself each day. Already the nanotechnology of the medical sciences was being applied to robotics and environmental chemistry. Most of the subterranean robots were multi-constructs, combinations of nano replicating grease, oils, and continuous replicating electronics. The robots worked fine; they would self-repair, think and react intuitively to the ever changing working conditions and keep accurate environmental reports on the atmosphere inside the chamber. The new subterranean robots could even offer suggestions for improvement not only their systems but to the massive heat sinks as well. The technology remained a secret. The technology had to run free and be kept away from the powerful corporations and their puppet governments. In their hands everything would grind to a halt while they fought over who had the biggest share and who owned what patents to build weapons. No, Kyle had a plan for the future of all humanity, not just the precious and chosen few.

On the wall a large construction formed within the haze, it was one of the power stations that converted the heat energy from the deep sinks. The sinks rested at several kilometres below the original plant, its energy pumped up through lined fissures that acted as piping. Inside the chamber, the temperature would be that of the mythical Hades, so hot that no human, no matter how well shielded, could ever enter. This part of the world existed because of computer designed and built constructions. The atmosphere was mostly mercury-silicate gas, which leaked from the ever-decaying power station. The view of the first station excited him. They would have to make four more to ensure sustainable power should something break down or go wrong.

Stans is returning your call, his desk said, interrupting his feelings of minuteness compared to this creation not made of man’s hands.

Put him through, Kyle said, taking the seat behind his desk. Stans appeared, sitting in a chair of his own. His face a reddish brown, and his shock of blonde curls stood out like a beacon atop his head. Stans wore black trousers and a simple open yellow shirt, with a red square emblazoned on its pocket. The tribal insignia allowed him to venture off site to visit and talk with the gathering tribes.

That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, Stans said, as soon as his connection cleared. All we need now is the Northern corporations to lift the embargo on electrical components, and then we can get some of that new nano-ware Mitsu-Benz has developed; we’ll finish this job in another twenty-five years, tops.

We can only hope, mate, Kyle said, feeling glad to see his old friend again. If we finish in under thirty I’d be happy.

You are a pessimist, Kyle. Think on the bright side; you now have the tribes and the wealth of Australia at your feet. You are in a stronger position to negotiate today than you were yesterday, aren’t you?

True enough, true enough, Kyle laughed feeling his tension ebbing. He brought up his desk screen and began touching in commands. He was checking current market movements, which corporations were interested in what and what he could use to get the cooperation he needed to get the job done. Maybe the Group of Five will be open to a mineral trade, now that we own the remaining uranium fields.

Now you’re thinking. If you can get me a contact into Toshiba’s new AI growth program, I’d be grateful.

Could be done, given a year of talks, Kyle said with thought. The new AI systems were a necessity. Toshiba was still connected to the Group of Five, last I heard.

Good, should make negotiations easier. Stans shifted forward in his chair. Now to the reason I’m calling.

I knew it wasn’t to congratulate me, what’s wrong?

Corrosion.

In the chamber?

This time the Thermoelectric generators we’ve sent in are corroding before we even get them to the edge of the fissure.

Stans shook his head. I can’t think of what to try next.

Kyle sat back and looked at the ceiling and its mass of tiny air vents. That’s something we have to fix now. He looked back at his friend. We have to get those Thermoelectric generators running within the next ten years.

It’s not long enough. The design group will need to start from scratch; we need to...

Maybe not scratch, Kyle said. He touched in some commands and hit send. I’m sending you some research done in Asia Four on a polymer and glass material they’ve been developing for the space industry. I was saving it for our space program but if it can be used to save us time with the thermoelectric generators then it’s already paid for itself.

But they won’t sell to us, Stans said, throwing up his hands. They’ve already tried to shut us down twice...

They will now, he smiled. Asia Four needs fish and guess who owns all the Australian fishing rights?

You have been busy today. Stans looked away, probably checking his desk screen. Got the material, thanks. I’ll get the team to look this stuff over. Stans leaned back. I’m catching the mid-afternoon flyer, so I’ll see you at three.

Three it is, Kyle said, as Stans vanished from the room.

~~~

The grey brown haze of the sky hung low over the city, and the air was thick with industrial fumes. Since greenhouse gasses were a runaway success, it seemed the government had given up policing controls. Kyle looked to the edge of the city from his thirtieth story office. The shimmer of the sea looked appealing, but nothing lived in the effluent sludge that floated along the beaches off Holdfast Shores. The once coastal Mecca for tourists was nothing but a seething cesspool these days. Looking at the sun as it lowered in the sky, Kyle could have cleaned up the beaches, done something about the air and even done something about the vanishing Antarctic ice layer. He was certainly wealthy and influential enough, but deep down he felt that the effort would have been nothing but a waste. All it would have bought was another five years, and things would be back to where he’d started.

His plan for the future was a better option, a better idea for the struggling, overpopulated world. In his heart he knew he was right, in his mind he had doubts. He had been on every talk program in the world selling his one world government idea, pushing his ground-breaking methods in the reduction of overpopulation and showing how his plan could virtually wipe out famine, starvation, and disease. Still, the world governments hesitated, argued and opposed him at every turn.

Kyle had grown tired of sunsets coloured by industrial gas and of paying clean air taxes when there wasn’t any fresh air left to breathe. He looked at his hands and knew he was running out of time. The wrinkles were getting deeper, the spots darker. Longevity drugs were okay, but even they couldn’t fight the poisons absorbed each day. He looked back at the sky and watched the distant trail of a rocket blasting its way into space. That would be humanity’s real salvation, but the world wasn’t ready for that part of his future. Deep down he wondered how they would interpret his plan when they found out. The white contrail of the rocket slowly vanished into the pink and orange haze of the oncoming sunset.

It will be a beautiful sunset tonight; they say, a woman from behind said.

It will be that, Kyle sighed. He tried to straighten his gold neck ring, so his family crest sat centre of his shirt fasteners.

You look good in blue, the voice said. The woman’s footsteps were soft on the flexiwood floor. Want me to do the ring?

Kyle stared at his reflection in the glass wall and decided the ring was close enough to perfect. I wish the fashion went back to wearing stud collars, he said with a tight laugh. Deep down he hated formal meetings. At least you didn’t need to align studs.

They’re waiting for you down in the board room, she said, coming up to stand directly behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned her head into his back. The United Nations is again calling for a halt to the project.

Kyle turned and put his arms around his wife and held her close. Who have they sent this time? He caressed the back of her head, knowing too well the strain being placed on her just by being his wife.

Harrilson-Smyth from New York, she said in a soft tone into his chest. She pushed back from Kyle and looked into his eyes. He’s an angry one.

One of the Body President’s board members, no doubt, Kyle said, as he admired her beauty. He’d married Juanita three years ago while in Greece negotiating artificial intelligence research between the Greeks and Japanese. They now worked together and he fell for the translator. Stans is coming down this afternoon, he said. Juanita’s face brightened. She liked Stans.

I’ll get us a table at the Hilton Royale, shall I?

We’ll probably be busy until seven so book us in for around eight, Kyle smiled, as he gave her a kiss and headed for the door.

I’ll invite Katherine, she said before he could leave.

He’ll like that, Kyle laughed, as the door slid closed behind him.

~~~

Voices echoed down the hallway as Kyle approached, two floors down from his whole floor office. The bellowing voice of an American cascaded over the chatter of the others. The UN’s delegate for this meeting, Kyle shuddered. The United States will no longer permit...

Sit down... please, Kyle said immediately, entering the room, and please be civil. He walked to the head of the long, central table and stood with his hands pressed firmly down onto the black surface; his shoulders hunched and his weight forward on his arms. Ten sets of eyes stared back, and one set was still standing. Harrilson-Smyth.

Please be seated, Kyle said, keeping his voice low and his tone neutral.

You do not order me...

Sit down! Kyle yelled. The room rang with the power of his voice and more than one member winced.

Harrilson-Smyth sat immediately, his face red and puffy.

Before we hear what our esteemed guest from the UN has to say, I want some news from you people.

I’ve come all the way...

Mr. Harrilson-Smyth, Kyle said in a firmer tone. You are uninvited and unexpected. We have urgent matters to discuss at this moment, and if there is time at the end of this meeting, which will conclude in twenty minutes, then we will address whatever concerns you bring. Kyle also wanted to show this man that he didn’t care what the UN knew about the project. Once started the project could not be stopped.

Harrilson-Smyth went to speak, but a stare from Kyle signalled that this was not a wise move. He remained silent—fuming, but silent.

Ela, Kyle said to a woman seated half way down the table on his right.

The tall, dark-haired woman stood, thumbed on a data pad, took a deep breath and began to speak. We have established fourteen new centres for processing, three of which are in the southern Chinese provinces. She paused for a small nod of approval. We are still six units behind per day, but a new contract with the German-Swiss company, Intefo, will see increased production and the ability to meet the world’s needs for centres by early 2165, she said. We have saved billions of dollars by changing the design of the new processing centres to be simple and functional. Once those who want to be a part of the new system have registered, many of the centres will no longer be required. She finished and sat down.

And the centres have been well received? Kyle asked.

Ela shot back to her feet. Ah... on the whole yes, sir. She looked at her data pad. The New Moscow Right has been a great help in educating people as to their purpose when the facilities come on line.

The Chinese were the major investors in the New World Capital and had held many of the most volatile nations at bay with their sheer weight of numbers. Though the new world government would have limited human interaction, it did have a sub-council that ensured correct function. The sub-council would be administered by the Chinese, as was negotiated. To the Chinese, it was a great honour and a great responsibility, but to Kyle, it was a little clause on a contract. In reality the AI government system could not be overridden once set in motion. He still had the final control, but no one knew that.

Good news, Ela, he said as she sat down again. He turned to another woman seated directly to his right. Cecelia, what of the problems with the Corporations?

Euro One is still lobbying the UN...

That’s what...

Quiet, Mr. Harrilson-Smyth, your turn will come soon enough. Kyle motioned Cecelia to continue.

The UN have threatened to cut off the communications satellites if we do not comply. She handed Kyle her data pad. They can’t do it, she said with a little chuckle. The Russians signed a treaty with us this morning and have committed their whole communications network to the project.

But they can’t do that! Harrilson-Smyth jumped to his feet.

They just did, Cecelia said taking her seat.

What is it you want, Harrilson-Smyth? Kyle asked, feeling annoyed at this man’s intrusion. He had more to worry about than whether the UN was happy. Everyone turned to the big American in his latest smart suit. The suit visibly adjusted to his body movements. Expensive material put to a useless application, Kyle thought.

I have been... he paused to study the group. The UN urges you to put a twelve-month stay on the project, he said facing Kyle. The man’s jaw was firm, his face and bearing looked around mid-forty, but in truth, he was probably a clone body with a downloaded eighty-year-old brain.

The project will not stop for anything. Now is there anything specific the UN wishes?

You are using up massive amounts of resources, Mr. Raymond, he said. The world...

The United Corporations, The Group of Five and Euro One, you mean? Kyle interjected. Isn’t it true that you have mined the Antarctic to a grey wasteland?

Harrilson-Smyhth’s face turned red. Veins stood out on his forehead like he was about to explode. Look, Raymond, we control over half the world resources, and it is with this power that we are requesting, no, demanding you shut down your project. We don’t need a global capital; we don’t need salvation; we don’t need your type of madness.

The wealthy and powerful rarely do, Mr. Harrilson-Smyth, Kyle said. He sighed and pointed to the door. You are wasting your time. I suggest you leave, go back to New York and tell the last of the power brokers the new world is coming and they can’t do a thing to stop it.

Harrilson-Smyth stiffened his shoulders, gave each person around the table a personal glare then stormed from the room. The silence was immediate, a miasma of dense air filled the place where Harrilson-Smyth had stood, and Kyle felt the urge to order a cleaner/scrubber into the room. There was some minor fidgeting while Kyle composed himself and forced his mind back to matters at hand.

He sat and listened silently to financial reports, weather reports and troop movements where areas were still volatile. Kyle was relieved to hear that Moon-base had committed half its yearly GNP to helping the project and to supplying some of their advanced space technology to a significant part of the construction’s purpose.

While the construction site was still in its skeletal phase, Kyle ordered a stockpiling of rare elements, metals and solid fuels to be taken to the site. Its final purpose was Stans’ responsibility, but for now, all he had to do was supply the materials. The closed in area would be fully automated and self-replicating, to avoid any attempts to stop its role in the salvation of the human race.

Finally, Kyle said, leaning back in his chair, Lorentzen, I hope you have better news on the AI constructs than last week.

The red headed Dr. Lorentzen leaned on the desk and shook her head. We are still having problems with Digi-Corp’s reasoning chip-ware. We can’t find a standard platform for the five units to be reliable.

You’re still looking for a platform? Kyle snapped. Hell, Lorentzen, we’ve got twelve thousand techs on this end of the deal; construct our own platform. I want a fully autonomous government system in place in fifteen years. We can’t leave this all up to the whims of the individual, Kyle said addressing the group. We need the new government system; we need a reliable system, one that is not subject to mood swings, greed or vice. He stood slowly. It was almost time to leave. The twenty minutes was up ten minutes ago. Use the basis of democracy in its idealistic form, Lorentzen, then program in the discrepancies that have appeared throughout history. Use the better elements of Communism, Taoism, Christianity, Islam, use everything you damn well can to construct our new political engine. We are going to need it when the time comes, and I want it ready. I will deliver the AI itself but it needs thinking materials, doctor.

Kyle started to walk from the room. He paused, turned and looked back on his team. You’re all doing a bloody good job, he murmured, but we don’t have a lot of time to do this. Twenty-five years at the most. I’ll get you whatever you need to get your jobs done, let’s just get it done.

Chapter Two

2170 AD

A black monolith stood in the central desert of South Australia. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered around its base, setting up a shantytown of dejected and disillusioned humanity. The last of the great heat absorbing panels were in place, and the five AIs were in their sarcophagus type control centres deep within the massive building. Their actual location, and the location of the emergency access panel was known only to Stans and Kyle, who had personally installed them. The AIs were partly organic, grown from stem cells and infused with nano-drivers and a Nimtz crystal chip powered by millions of fibre optic information channels. The major artificial part was a collection of square crystals crisscrossed with multi-channelled interfaces that interacted with the world. There was nothing in the world the AIs didn’t know, no secret too small, no life too insignificant for its attention. World press called it ‘THE CRYSTAL BROTHER’ and ‘1984 Gone Mad’. To Kyle, it was a necessity; it was the primary drive behind the plan. Without it, the world would simply die with a whimper. At least this way he had purchased time they didn’t have and banked it in a system that would help them continue to live for centuries at least.

The atmosphere inside the flyer was calm, the sky blue and clear through the domed top. As he and his friend flew back to Adelaide, Kyle handed Stans a small pill. Stans nodded then swallowed. In a moment he was sleeping, softly snoring, as Kyle looked at his. Once taken he would have no memory of the day’s events; he would forget the pass codes for the AI chamber, the access codes to the AIs themselves and would have no memory of what he had commanded the system to do.

With a glance at Stans he took the pill between his thumb and forefinger and crushed it until its white powder sprayed all over his trousers. Someone needed to know, he reasoned. He wouldn’t be like the Pharoahs of Egypt; he couldn’t. He had to leave things for one last check before throwing away the key. Kyle’s father had been a carpenter, and he always said, ‘Measure twice, cut once.’ Kyle was going to double, triple check on everything before he let it run free.

He looked at Stans as the flyer started its descent into Adelaide’s grey-red gloom. His job was finished with the AIs, he didn’t have much else to remember, except maybe the date he was having with the larger-than-life Katherine and finding a new designer for the fully electric transport system.

~~~

On landing in Adelaide, Kyle was met with the news that a war had broken out in Darwin between loyalist Australian guards and Kyle’s One World Policing Force. It had started over a great migration from the northern hemisphere to the southern. People from all over the world were flocking to the site of the New World Capital, all wanting to play their part.

The Loyalists started sinking ships loaded with so-called pilgrims and Kyle’s force had stepped in and stopped them. Kyle was now listed on the Corporations top assassination list. Things were getting dangerous.

The net is getting tighter around me, Kyle said to Stans over a coffee in his office. I might have to go in and leave the final stages up to you.

Hey, hold on a minute, Stans protested. I’ll get everything in working order but it’s got to be you who stands up on that podium and takes the bows. If you don’t show then no one will believe.

Kyle sipped his coffee, it was bitter and stale; fresh produce, fresh anything, had become hard to obtain. Everything had gone into the Capital, the New World Order. So the Thermoelectric generators and stations are stable at last, he said, sitting back to stare at Stans.

Pretty much. I don’t think we’ll get a thousand years out of them but we will get well over five hundred. Stans had grown older, more lined around the eyes and a lot thinner on top. We just have to get the transportation system integrated and calibrated then we can start on physical structuring.

Digi-Corp is in place, Kyle sighed. "The government just needs a