Married by Mistake Chapter 53. Singapore

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Chapter 53. Singapore

After he left Hiroshima, Japan, Tom’s plane traveled over the expansive eastern Pacific Ocean, the early day was clear and broken clouds. The Pacific Wizard’s upgraded twin engines operated so smooth and so well-balanced, one would hardly know they pushed the big plan at hundreds of miles-per-hour as he wandered around the open expanse of the big jet alone.

Tom walked the length of the plane, using the restroom. At his designated altitude, he still flew slow compared to the commercial airliners.

Not meant for blistering speed, his craft and home was a yacht, after all, a flying boat. And even with the upgrades in the engines, it still traveled at a sedate speed of a little less than six-hundred kilometers-per-hour, about thirty-percent slower compared to commercial passenger jet.

But, it was his home.

He passed over the water, the autopilot followed the path programmed in the flight computer. The Japanese were sticklers about accuracy and with the unusual private jet, made good and sure that he had the proper data set logged into the computer.

He stood behind the pilot’s seat, he did not sit back down, just stood there and watched the machine fly on itself with the automatic guidance system engaged. He had spent a lot of time in the plane in recent weeks. Although his arm was no longer oozing blood, he kept applying new, clean dressings, if the air-pressure changes caused some unexpected problems. The last thing he wanted, to lose the use of his injured arm.

It would have a scar for some time that would be impressive to show off. But for now it was an angry line that crossed his forearm, as if someone hit him with an ax.

It was quite impressive to the unprepared, if he could show it off. But there was no one to show it to while being on the Pacific Wizard in mid-flight.

Tom took a deep breath and let it out in a controlled slow exhale, it felt so good, he stretched a second time before he went to his desk and picked up the tablet computer. It was the one he used so often to write on and sat back in the pilot seat, where he could keep an eye on the displays.

Radar indicated several aircraft above and below, a heavy jet was passing over him going the same direction. He read the display and looked the specs up on his computer and shook his head at the numbers it displayed on the size and speed of the larger plane.

Laughing, the engines on the passenger jet was larger by far than the two that powered the Wizard. Even with the engine upgrades when he purchased the big jet through his company, the specs made him a tiny bit envious.

If he could get another upgrade and put those on his yacht.

Laughing out loud again, he realized he would have to have the engines out on longer stalks or have divots pounded into the fuselage of the plane to fit the big fan-powered blowtorches.

A man could stand up inside the big airliner’s engines if he had a mind to.

He could spend all day in the air with Kaylee if he had the plane like those. Except for the cost, some twenty-five thousand US dollars per hour!

She would have to paint a lot to sell her creations to help offset the cost of flying a privately owned seven-eight-seven.

*Even if it is just a fantasy.* Tom shook his head. *There was no way to buy one of those wide-bodied birds.*

The memory of the woman echoed in his head.

His shoulders sagged. He had spent almost the last two hours not thinking of that raven-haired artist.

She had made him laugh, and even if she had not intended to do so, she had hurt him to the core of his heart.

More than he would ever admit to anyone except himself. It was important to him that she kept her promise to… He forgot the other man’s name except he was a congressional aide of some kind.

Shaking his head, he returned to his writing, trying to keep Leonard the Leafy Sea Dragon and his friend Weeds, on a child’s level of understanding. This story had become one about keeping promises.

“A promise kept, makes a person’s word valued.” He typed on the screen in the word bubble of Wendel, the Weedy Sea Dragon.

Still, as he wrote the adventures of Leonard and Weeds his mind drifted to the mote of loneliness in his mind.

The autopilot computer chimed, it was time to make radio contact with Singapore and begin his descent.

Checking his fuel, he was still had a third of his operational fuel left. Traveling the way he had of late, the service techs in San Francisco had fitted his yacht with fuel cells and turned the luxury jet into a virtual gas-can with wings.

Tom, hopped from one city to the next from book-con to comic-con for signing of books and traveled alone, he had flown the great circle route with no one to talk to in the big plane.

Still, he had the computers and could video chat with anyone he chose. But he had no one to call. So he followed his schedule, his eyes settling on a the event that he had attended after Dr. Manga’s installation, the event where the sponsor set him up with a date-for-hire.

He laughed sadly at his perception of the date, that woman came from a company the organizer hired at the Frankfurt comic-con to escort him so that he would look even better with the beautiful woman on his arm.

Tom laughed as the night had progressed and the escort was in fact, more than an escort. With a Master’s Degree in biology and organic chemistry. She was wonderful to talk with an ability to see both sides of an argument, a quick wit and the ability to shut down the probing questions on her relationship with Tom.

Even when one person tried to prove that she was some gold-digger with no brains.

‟I hoped you would slap down that SOB from the vomit-rag tabloid, but jeeze!” Tom commented when they were alone and he laughed. The sight of the tabloid reporter made to look like an imbecile tickled him. “That was beyond good!”

She called herself Krystal with a slight Saxony-German accent, and Tom immediately doubted that was her real name. As far as her education, he could not prove she lied about a Master’s Degree, and she could talk with anyone about nearly any subject. Even the most recent journals of learned circles of chemistry.

When Tom started to talk to her the next morning, she picked up the phone called someone, then told him to get dressed.

‟We are going to breakfast.” She smiled. Taking him by the hand and led him out the door of the hotel.

‟Sorry about last night, I have a lot of things…”

‟Shhh… Mister Harte. Things happen, sometimes they don’t. You are awesome and you did a lot of public interaction at that event. In total, I am very impressed with your work.”

‟You have read my books?”

‟I’ll read the rest tonight, but I read all the children’s books while you slept.” She tapped her phone.

‟Wow. That’s a lot of books, I’ve written for a quite a few years now.”

‟I can read two-thousand words per minute. That’s measured, sir.” She smiled. ‟I can type one-hundred words-a-minute, and I speak five languages, there is little that gets by me.”

‟Anything else? Why are you with me, why not at your own convention?”

‟I’m still in debt for school and a chance compete for a place on the Olympic Archery team.” She said as they stepped into the elevator, alone. “I need to purchase some equipment to keep up with the other competitors.”

Tom laughed, then she kissed him deeply.

‟That’s for being wonderful.” She said softly, coughing with a guilty sound.

‟You said you couldn’t kiss me last night.”

‟Yes, I broke the rule. Sue me.” She chuckled as the doors opened. No one was there to snap pictures or talk to them. She knew the way around the crowded hotel.

‟You are good.” Tom said, looking around. They had come out of an elevator facing away from the foyer and walked out a side door.

‟Logistics and protection. Part of the job.” Only then did Tom notice that Krystal’s eyes were quick to take in everything.

‟We can walk out now. We have reservations at the Meadow. It is where we will meet some of your cohorts in crime.”

‟My cohort… What?” Tom looked sideways at her.

‟The other authors. Each one has an escort to get them there and on time.”

‟So you are a babysitter?”

Krystal laughed. It was a musical sound.

‟I am an escort, but our company requires special skills that is beyond the typecast Hollywood version.” She said softly. As they got into a dark-windowed limousine. ‟I am here to make you look good and to keep you safe.”

Tom boggled.

‟And I thought you were just smart.”

‟Not bad for a call girl?” Crystal said. ‟Don’t worry about my emotional state. I am well compensated to keep you safe.”

‟Who would want to hurt me? I’m just a storyteller.”

‟You don’t know?” Her face became serious, no longer a tall, Nordic beauty that graced the floor, but a military-esque hard look of a bodyguard. ‟There was a threat to the convention. Because of your novel and movie, it is felt that you are a high-value target.”

‟Oh crap…” Tom boggled. “So you are a bodyguard? But just not armed.”

“Oh yes, sir I am.”

“Please for the thousandth time? Call me Tom.” He said.

“Yes, Tom, I’m armed. I carry devices always within reach.” She slid up her skirt, where he could see she carried four knives and two small pistols with silencers in thigh holsters. “Point two-two caliber with sound suppressors. Power is not as important as placement.”

Tom could not get his mind off what was under her skirt for the rest of the trip in .

That was over a week ago. Today he stood inside the Wizard far above the eastern edge of the Pacific Ocean descending into Singapore. Here, he was to meet with a local publisher and distributor for children’s books and he received an invitation to stay at a high-mountain villa. He would to try to get his stories published in the island country. A fresh market for him.

The autopilot chimed and returned control to the human pilot and Tom guided the big jet down into the approach lane.

Slow descent and a perfect touch down with mild weather, the Wizard rumbled down the taxiway to where the crews indicated with their long, bright-colored batons.

The engines powered down with the typical sound of jets and Tom stood out of his seat. Opening the door, and stepped out into the sunshine of the beautiful southeast Asia day.

A few hours later, Tom would wish to never see such a day again.

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Steel Gardens of Anid-Sta Gen 3. Chap. 5. Steel Gardens

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Gen 3. Chapter 5. Steel Gardens

*This is incredible* Amsi looked around and shook his head.

“This is…” The view, challenged the map in his hand. Where the military put weapons into storage. Aircraft, tanks, missiles, cannons up to and included the “God Gun” self-propelled guns with the bore large enough to hold a fighter jet.

Projectiles stacked according to the map.

All transformed. Nanobots, stripped down the machines of war, atom by atom and constructed such things of beauty that his eyes took in colors of the entire spectrum.

Flowers, trees, all made of impervious armor, reconstituted and retasked.

“These old designs copied the cellular structure,” Thea flitted around. “The differences that the plants and flowers do not procreate, but they filter the air, toxins flow through the leaves and flowers, pure air comes out the other side,  the molecular thin leaves catalyze toxins  and restructure them to inert or completely different biodegradable molecules. Another is the inactivation of virions by destruction of the capsids that hold the virus together, then the DNA and RNA is disassembled into simple amino acids.”

“What kinds of virus and toxin things are we talking about?” Fae asked.

“Plague virus is no longer detected, last viral body with that DNA was last registered thousands of years ago. Cyanide compounds were, for example, reconstituted into nitrogen, carbon and oxygen.”

“Where are the weapons, the explosives and such?”

Thea laughed, the sound reminded Amsi of wind chimes.

“You are walking on most of it. We enhanced the soil with iron and potassium. Nitrogen from explosives we fixed in the soil for plant use as natural fertilizers”

“Amazing. We go to sleep in a war-world and we wake up in paradise?”

“There are still things to process. In years when the Core Systems developed minibots, there was a catastrophe failure in a casing, it leaked radioactive material all over the place. Nanos and micros worked for years and disassembled heavy atoms into stable isotopes. Over a billion, billion, billion were destroyed by the radiation, but we kept working. It is in our programs.”

“Are any of the plants organic or is it all metal based life?”

“Organic plant life makes up an overwhelming major part of the groundcover. Metal-based life, including silicon and printed at the Core Systems, is less than five-percent of the total forms. Organic life has one thing metalloid based does not.” She flitted around. Looking for an example of what she was trying to show them, then pointed. “That!”

A flower had gone to seed, a tall dandelion based plant with a snowball puff shape to the end of the stem. Small seeds floated on the air.

“Metal life does not adapt or spread on its own. We’re limited, humans, organics, you are all fascinating. And Fae said you have something called children?”

“Something?” It was Amsi’s turn to laugh. “Yes, children are the result of humans being together for very long.”

Looking along the buildings, Amsi shook his head.

*Straight and right-angles, every structure. A very digital look and design.* He looked around. *Busy things these bots are.*

Fae shook her head.

“This area is beautiful. When I walked along here before we went into hibernation, it was lined with metal recycle yards for destroyed weapons, they worked all hours.”

“That was a horrid time.” He shook his head.

“What happened? That was the time before bots.” Thea asked as she led the way along a beautiful park-like setting.

“There was once a group that worshipped death. They wanted death for everyone that did not follow their Core Systems.”

“Their Core System?” Thea shook her head.

“It was their god. It led them to create the virus to kill everyone with five digits.”

“But the virus to kill all with four digits was also in the air. That’s documented.”

“Yes. Following the commands of machines, built by humans and programmed by the same, the humans gave power to the machines.”

“Then you would not take us as being friendly.” Thea observed.

“Some might have problems, but I don’t.”

“And, by extension. We might have bots that would view humans as a threat.”

“That stands to reason, if you are independent. You make up your own minds?”

“For the most part. We choose based on our experiences and freedom of choice. So yes, there are those that view humans as dangerous.” Thea’s voice had a distinct sad tone.

He shook his head.

“There are those in every group.”

“Most of those,” Thea added. “Are the Macros, only one Mega has come forth and claimed superiority. Megabot Lima-Bravo Nine-A even felt it was superior to gravity. It used math that it was not programmed for to prove it could overcome gravity without the use of reactive thrusters, that massive lifter had wings built on request to the Core Systems. The Systems warned Lima-Bravo Nine-A that it was not possible to build such wings.” Thea hung her head. “With wings on, that big bot took a leap out into the area known as Crater 12-B, a small crater with a minor gravitational anomaly, the rim is a thousand-meters of vertical, unobstructed stone.”

“What happened?” Fae’s eyes were big.

“We have Crater 12-LB9A now. Core Systems registered the impact as a seismic disturbance. The new crater is nearly a hundred-meters across and ten-meters deep. That bot’s systems were all recycled, it became a small forest of atmospheric conditioners, removing toxic by-products of war.”

Amsi laughed then apologized.

“Humans are given to such failures, too. There was once a fellow who put wings on his arms and jumped from a tower structure in a city called Paris. Too bad it was a failure. He made a dent into frozen ground. Franz Rechelt was his name, a lesson in my engineering school on how not to test new designs. Pity we cannot recycle our fellows failures like your megabot. However, I think we are much alike, bots and organics.”

Thea smiled.

*we are, indeed.* Keeping that moment of pleasure in her digital heart for all her days.

Cellular Justice Chapter 4. The Team

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Chapter 4. The Team

As a child, he had been a victim of a near drowning. The brain damage had left him with motor-deficits in his ability to walk or move his hands. He used a handle on the internet of ‟Spider” as it was one of his very favorite creatures.

This tended to limit his friends.

But one of those friends that also shared a physical challenge hooked him up with a genius with an inventive mind. They got together one day after Spider had his tablet computer stolen while heading home in his wheelchair.

He had done his homework on the computer of calculus while waiting for the bus, a two-legged vermin grabbed the computer and ran off.

There was little he could do when, surprisingly, they traced the Linux powered tablet to the new owner who said he bought it from ‟Some guy who said his wife had thrown him out and he needed money to rent a hotel room and food.”

But the strong security of the tablet had made it impossible to use and Spider retrieved it with all the data intact.

Still, the violation had sent him into a depression, until a chance meeting with Stephen, his neighbor. Stephen was a victim of Asperger Disorder. They had been neighbors and tended to ignore each other at first, finally became close, sharing the misery as two victims after Stephen had gotten mugged.

Spider noticed that the thirty-two-year-old Stephen had a need for protection as well. They formed a team to watch out for each other while going to school.

And it took some pressure to get Stephen to go back to school, calling teachers ‟Stupid”.

To Stephen, they were. Spider recognized his friend’s IQ was such that he ran rings around the chemistry and math professors after a few days.

One professor befriended them after they asked about a black eye and other obvious injuries.

The professor had been carjacked and nearly lost his car. Except for having his car wired with an electronic system in the steering wheel that shocked anyone not authorized to drive the Tesla. The car refused to drive after ten-meters and energized the steering wheel, making it impossible to hold. The ruffian left the car, but the damage to the professor remained.

The professor invited them to a meeting with others who had suffered assaults with the theft of electronic equipment. There they met dozens of other victims of snatch and run thefts, strong armed robbery of their electronics.

They were a team. After suffering the trauma a few had become hopelessly depressed, one of those depressed people had an epiphany. An inventive genius that equal to that of Stephen but with far more experience and schooling, began to build beautiful and deadly electronic devices.

They would become intentional victims of the same kind of thieves, muggers, bullies and hoodlums as anytime in the past. But they would be more helpless.

They would be a blind person listening to navigation directions from their device.

They would be wheelchair-bound listening to music with earphones and eyes closed.

They would be a curmudgeon that swore profanity at their phone and not know how it worked.

They would be inattentive students focusing their mobile homework in their hands as they walked down the street.

They would be the distracted executive that would drive down the street holding the phone on the edge of the door and wait too long at the light, waiting for traffic.

They would be victims of victimizers.

They would be texting, typing, music listening, inattentive prey for those that would knock them down and take the devices.

Only the vetted became invited into the circle of victims that sought justice where no other justice would reach.

Each one of them wore a pendant of a bronze mjolnir with a green sapphire embedded in the head.

This was the team. With the pendant they wore, the knew themselves.

They knew themselves as the Hammer of Justice.