Chapter 1. Migration North
He stepped off the hypersonic transport. The snow-white hair of the elderly man glinted in the Florida sunshine. Dark skinned, but of ambiguous heritage, he did not attract any attention from the transportation officers.
His ID chip said his name was Steve Aldin, his real name?
He had no family, while his brown eyes glinted with good humor, he had no emotion. Though the lines in his face were only a few hours old, they looked like each line and wrinkle earned by hard work and each crease was a story, a crooked nose attested to some long-ago punch or kick that he had suffered.
Although he was average looking, and the step he took was in good shape for someone his age, Steve Aldin was not what he appeared.
Ironically, despite appearances, he wasn’t even human.
Stepping into the men’s room, he locked himself into a stall and stood there for a moment. Then he sat quietly on the toilet and closed his eyes.
A mild shudder ran through his body, as if he had a chill. Rapidly the skin on his face and arms tightened, the wrinkles smoothed out.
When he stood, he was four inches taller, shoulders were much broader and his hair, instead of white and thinning, he had a head full of curly, raven-colored hair, the once crooked nose was gone. Now he sported an aquiline nose, undamaged and pristine. Deep-set piercing blue eyes stared out from under the bushy eyebrows.
A quick smile, the young man drew the eye of a few college girls coming back from holiday, on route to the University.
A young man who women would say “Easy on the eyes”, he walked out and strolled to the taxi stand and paid for a ride to the underground Vactrain with his credit-chip.
The taxi never made it to the destination. The taxi company that owned the vehicle reported it and the driver missing six-hours after the scheduled shift was supposed to end.
Police found taxi 141 north of town, a flat tire that looked to have hit an object and cut the sidewall lay next to the driver. While he attempted to change with the spare, when the car fell from the jack stand and pinned the driver to the guard rail. The impact, crushing the father of four with thousand of pounds of steel and glass.
The victim, unseen by passing motorists, no one had called in the car with the flashing hazard lights.
She walked into the nearby bus station, a medium-sized female, wearing an oversized t-shirt and jeans opened a locker with a key found under a rock in a blind spot outside.
Taking out a black-cloth shopping bag, the woman turned and walked out to the blind area she found the key at and stood in the shadows. Unobserved, the body stretched to a tall man of Nordic descent. His grey eyes sparkled above sun-kissed cheeks. The winning smile of the American with a mid-west accent.
Moving ever north, he did not need to sleep, the foods he ate came from different organic sources. His energy needs were simple. Carbon based organic material converted into electricity and powered his circuitry.
“Hello.” A voice behind him drew his attention while he picked a handful of high carbohydrate energy fruits, called dates, from a palm tree. His central processing core indicated that the material was easily processed to energy.
He turned and a small dark-haired girl of Cuban descent looked at him, wearing a pink Hello Kitty t-shirt and jeans. She was no threat.
“Hello, I was just getting a couple of these to snack on.” He used a Danish accent, should there be a legal problem. “Are these yours?”
“No, but you are picking bad ones. You should go to the other side of the tree, the sweet ones are there.” She pointed to a spot on the tree almost directly opposite from where he was.
A bite into the dates on the side she pointed to, compared to the opposite side was new knowledge, there was much more sugar in the side the little girl pointed out.
“Thank you.” He smiled.
“You don’t belong around here.” She said. “You are going to have trouble if you don’t get out of here.”
“Thank you, where can I get a ride?” He said as he stepped backwards against the tree.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were without guile, but it was obvious that she did not go anywhere or very far without her mother or father.
“Do you live around here?” He asked.
“Just there.” She pointed to a house.
“Would your mom or dad give me a ride somewhere?” Already his heuristic programming conceiving of killing the adults if they were a threat and he would steal the car.
“Mom’s at work, my brother is watching me. We have to stay home until mom comes back.”
He nodded, an action he discovered humans did in this part of the world, he knelt and looked the girl in the eye. Studying her iris, she was not aware that the android imaged her retina and transmitted all the information on an encrypted carrier wave to his creator.
“What is your name?” He asked.
“Thank you Anna.” He stood and walked away. Looking over his shoulder, Anna the little girl had gone back to her yard and was yelling in the door to someone inside about a white man walking down the street.
By the time he reached the corner, the blond Nordic stranger was a shorter, black-haired Cuban looking youth.
He caught a bus at the corner and headed out of the neighborhood.
In twelve-hours he crossed the Florida state line into Georgia as an Irishman with brown curly hair.
Steve Aldin, known by his creators as the Justice of The Religion, was a morphing android, walking north, blending in to the populace.
He was built and programmed to learn then transmit all he could. At his destination he would detonate. , Inside his chest, was an antimatter bomb the size of a grain of sand. He was programmed to blow up the top-secret James Madison Micro-Nuclear Power Plant on the Jefferson River, only a kilometer from the Capitol of the United States.
The size of a single-family house, the four-thousand kilowatt plant was a dedicated power source for the halls of government, even the neighboring businesses did not know that a plant was in their midst.
Once he arrived at the plant, his programming directed him to make entry with any means possible.
He would leave a crater a quarter-mile across. The equivalent of more than four-tons of TNT.
Those that lived through the initial blast, would succumb to the melt-down radiation leaks from the destroyed power plant.
He was the weapon of choice, he could learn about the weakness of the American society for other androids to follow. The American’s would never guess that they were under attack.
Or by what.
Tykon rocked in a chair and cackled. Even if the American’s knew there was a danger, they could never find the android. He gave no radiation signature, the antimatter in his chest was inert, only becoming a danger once it was released from it’s magnetic containment and contacted the walls of the normal matter capsule.
And like humans, he could learn. And he would learn at a string of military bases. He would learn how to get in and blow up the war machines of the United States. Other androids would follow.
There was no stopping the crippling of America.
Tykon loved death to visit. And Death would visit America seven times. And seven times that, if he had anything to do with it.
Tykon and his team had built the ultimate smart bomb. The American’s didn’t know it, but they were going to be given a lesson on following the path of the righteous.