Ownerless World 5x6y4u

OWNERLESS WORLD

Table of Contents

Title Page

Anthony Koontz

All rights reserved.

Special Edition

Copyright © 2021 Antonio Kuntz / Anthony Koontz

THE END

Anthony Koontz

All rights reserved.

The characters and events depicted in this book are fictional until proven otherwise. Any resemblance to people real, living or deceased, it is coincidence and it is not intentional. No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without express permission in the author's writing, but you can disclose it, please. Text, cover and layout by Anthony Koontz. Revised by chance and other gods. @kntz Mundo sem Dono - Lady Power Fundação Biblioteca Nacional - Ministério da Cultura Registro número 150.921 - Livro 247 - Folha 4. Contributing Translator Angela Fairbank M.A.C.T.

Special Edition

Copyright © 2021 Antonio Kuntz / Anthony Koontz

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“John Paul II, on the occasion of your visit, we, Andean and American Indians, are returning your Bible to you. For over five centuries, it has given us neither love nor peace nor justice. Please take your Bible back and give it to our oppressors. They need moral teachings more than we do.”

Ramiro Reynaga, indigenous leader, during the visit of Pope John Paul II to Bolivia in 1985.

A portrait of the end of time A frequent observation heard in international councils was that Muslims were not known to go without food. In those regions, unlike other countries or nations, charity wasn’t the business of state or institutions but rather a direct obligation for citizens, and begging was a respectable profession. In the West, a majority of insolvent states, full of millionaires, entrusted their economic istration to a supranational entity, the Jus Foundation. This organization had no access to any of Islam’s philanthropic organizations nor did it have any direct control over the fortunes made under Mohammed’s influence. While in Islam no competition existed when it came to charity, in Continental America and Europe, State treasuries were full, preventing any end to poverty in the southern hemisphere. William F. Jus’s had personally obtained approval from the governments of the United States, Canada and Mexico for legislation, which stated that citizens who contributed to his Foundation were exempt from paying income tax. Of the nine and a half billion people living in the world, more than half suffered from serious malnutrition. Negative demographic growth had begun a decade earlier and privileged people itted that this was the best natural response for mankind’s survival. Unfortunately, the decline in population was slower than the decline in production. The Jus Foundation, counting on the fact that over time even greater numbers of people would become poor, managed to distribute wealth by selecting residual families from Protestant and Catholic conglomerates. The Foundation’s power came from private funds that protected family inheritance. This business idea had come about from the need to protect these families’ children and grandchildren from growing famine in the States as well as declining currencies. By substituting state law and authority with street morality and justice in various countries, the Jus Foundation believed that a decrease in the birth rate would help balance the ecology. However, it did not use biochemical or physical contraceptive methods to finance its control. “The poor have the right to be born” was one of its advertising slogans.

What’s more, in a world divided ever since the financial collapse of the 2030s, the Foundation’s dominance was almost total since it was limited exclusively to countries of Christian tradition. Due to Islamic expansion, theocratic nations under sharia law were not allowed to benefit from any of the Foundation’s programs; instead, they were at the mercy of mass genetic experiments developed in China and Japan. The legend about paradise no longer existed. Consequently, in the middle of the 21st century, the Western Hemisphere was in ruins, the Middle East was at peace, and a large part of Asia and Oceania was experiencing economic balance. The history of the world was continuing naturally but in the near future, seven giant, armed aircraft carriers would be paralyzed in the Pacific Ocean as they faced a fleet of armored, dark spheres floating in the sky. History was about to be changed forever.

Anno domini 2045 By opening her moist, sweaty legs, Melina Evren had given the best of herself to Juan, Carlos, Castañeda, Pericles, Hugo, Smith, Mussolini and the most outstanding men ever since she was thirteen years old. She drove her lovers crazy with her smooth ass, sculpted nipples and wide, welcoming mouth. Some of them―the most submissive―succumbed at a mere glance from her. And that’s how Melina managed to become the First Lady on August 8 at the age of 38 showing no signs of cellulite, wrinkles, stretch marks or even a belly.

New York Juan Canarió unzipped his pants, loosened his belt over his flabby belly and thought back to the day he had decided Melina was the love of his life―the same woman who was now in the bathroom filling her cheeks with water and toothpaste and spraying foam on the huge wall mirror. The polished marble floor reflected her lusciously pink, naked beauty. “What a treat!” he thought to himself. Clearly more delights were in store later that afternoon. Juan recited the consulate’s number and, at the other end of the phone, an elderly, female secretary listened politely. She wrote down Juan’s orders and hung up. Then, looking at her reflection in the glass window, she touched up her lipstick, wiped the reddish stain off the microphone, and glanced at the panorama stretching out from the seventh floor to the blue-gray horizon. “Again,” the woman thought. Forgetful over time for one reason or another, Juan had asked her to confirm his meeting with Hervé and his return flight. Japan On the other side of the world, although not that far away, Kiryu was finishing up her seventy-sixth test of the year. For the last two months, she had been working without any assistants and without any budget in a third-class laboratory located in the university’s oldest building. Her contract with the Japanese space agency had expired. Once she had placed the intra-polished metal and electrons correctly, the superconductive flooring with a mass of 150 kg and a negative weight rose half a meter from the ground. She modified the mass and temperature and then recorded alternative forces in relation to horizontal and vertical movements. The flooring swayed forward, backward and sideways, controlled by laser beams of different colors and gradations. A satisfied smile played over her lips. New York Just like every morning, the sun rose, and like some women did, she closed her legs. The light entering the room illuminated specks of dust and, as the man left the bed, he tried to catch them with his hands. Being the center of the universe was truly the best. Wanting more space, he got out of bed naked and opened up

the windows wide to breathe in the sea air. “Close them, Jus!” the young girl murmured, hiding her head under the pillow. Jus turned, noticed the exaggerated beauty of the girl’s back and smiled. He felt a sudden tenderness. He knew it wouldn’t last more than an instant but it was satisfying nonetheless. In his life, happiness was just a fleeting emotion. Yes, now it was gone. The screen on the bedside table flickered and a baritone voice from UVC[1] announced a new day. Seven-thirty a.m., February the first. There was still hunger in the world and Jus had things to do. At eight o’clock sharp, Ketrin keyed in the access code to the classic World Wide Web and by doing so allowed the universe to enter the office. A few seconds later, hundreds of communication channels were displaying Ketrin’s voice and synthesized images, which were all answering in the same way. “Jus Foundation, good morning. One moment, please.” The switchboard identified the origin of each call and repeated the phrase in the relevant language, then forwarded the call to the Jus Foundation representative―either a human or a UVC unit. Most calls came from related companies and philanthropic institutions, all mediated by the Jus Foundation, causing a vicious cycle between operational agreements and negotiation. Here was the headquarters of the poverty, hunger and charity industry, developed and founded by its most powerful benefactor, William F. Jus, who was responsible for maintaining the systems of balance. Jus’s main achievement was having become the greatest symbol of Christian charity in the Western Hemisphere after the Arab expansion over Mediterranean Europe had taken place. A former priest who had become a Protestant minister at the age of forty, he had begun his career as an international figure, leading the first of many transcontinental marches in which he took groups of humans on foot across the borders of enemy countries. In this way, he had managed to unite the poor and the rich, pagans and religious followers, and had brought hundreds of thousands of African, Russian, Turkish, Slavic and Latin American Christians together to demand better sanitary and working conditions during the worst years of the crisis. Because the First World was impoverished, the empire of the defenseless was

able to flourish. After less than a decade later, William F. Jus was underwriting one hundred and thirty billion euros a day. This fact made him feel proud every time he walked through the electronic vestibule of the Christmas Building, the nerve center of the Jus Foundation, an entity that istered more than one hundred thousand food-producing agribusinesses in fourteen transnational zones. These included aerospace, oil and telecommunications network industries, which collaborated with entire countries by providing financial and technological assistance. At the same time, the entity offered to the remaining ecclesiastical authority by bringing together hundreds of Protestant and syncretic sects and cults under the same banner. Last but not least, the Foundation was in charge of the armed forces of Continental America as well as the official representative of the Northwestern bloc, the true origin of an empire. “Good morning, Ketrin.” “Good morning, Mr. Jus. The representative of the International Committee for Underprivileged Children has been waiting for you for twenty minutes. I took the liberty of letting him sit in your office. He’s as angry as a bear and I couldn’t find any other way to calm him down.” As Ketrin finished speaking, she raised her eyebrows and shoulders. Jus stretched out his lips, rubbed his hands over his temples, took a deep breath, and entered his office. The door wasn’t fully closed so he could hear the man’s strong accent. “Son of a bitch!” yelled Herculano Valente, a Euro-Portuguese follower of Manichaeism and an elected deputy of the Popular Christian Party ed by the Foundation. He was facing a number of large 3-D posters, framed in ARGlass and showing pale, brown-skinned children. On each poster, underneath the words “Feed Me,” there was an international bank number preceded by the initials JF. “We had an agreement, Jus, and you broke it. I negotiated the non-refundable loan as well as the printing and distribution of more than twelve million posters, just like this one, in thirteen different languages. The Congress of Free Europe gave me carte blanche, trusting that the project would be a success. I helped rejuvenate this campaign, I invested my career in it, and now I find this absurd number printed on my posters! The original should be 315597-81 and here it says 315597-91! How am I going to explain this to the deputies?”

“Tell them the truth,” Jus replied, squeezing Herculano’s shoulders in a brotherly gesture, before sitting down. “We work in the interest of goodness, not for profit. A different bank number isn’t going to alter our main purpose. Use it to assert yourself with public opinion in case your peers try to undermine some of your actions. You’ll have them eating out of your hand and the Foundation won’t charge anything for this gift. Anyway, the Foundation never collects. You only give what you receive.” “Gift?!” Herculano questioned, almost falling over from the momentum of his huge rocking belly and cheeks. “Changing the bank number on the posters, and in so doing preventing me from accessing contributions, was not a gift, it was a betrayal. All the contracts I made had me managing the . You’ve tied my hands and feet, damn it! It was my idea and the Foundation was to receive 60% of the funds, which was both more than it deserved and more than it needed.” Jus folded his hands together in a gesture of prayer and replied “Enough? What’s enough for the poor on this planet? They need everything. One hundred percent of everything. You should be happy you’re helping them. I’ve been a good provider in recent years. Trust me. When you need money to maintain your status, you’ll have it.” Herculano looked down and clenched his fists with his palms facing the table. Jus continued in a more amiable tone. “Fine. Once this matter is settled, why don’t we make the most of the situation and the first contribution right now? When we disclose the list of Samaritans, your name will be near the top. How much do you have in the bank?” “There is something beyond your intelligence, Jus, your cynicism.” Herculano stood up, lithe for his 76 years, and headed for the door, which opened soundlessly. Before the door closed, Herculano turned around and saw Jus give a hint of a smile. Then, taking advantage of the fact that he had his hands crossed, Jus lifted them up, placed them behind his neck and leaned on them as he reclined in his comfortable chair. Just as the door closed, Jus placed his feet on the table and said to himself, “Go in peace.”

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Martyrdom On Fifth Avenue, Hugo tossed a real dollar over to a fat, black woman sitting on the sidewalk and climbed into an old hydrogen-powered taxi. The driver insisted on getting out of the car and closing the door for this boy who clearly loved his pasta. At that time, money was digital-electronic. Paper bills were treated like souvenirs by billionaires and as a privilege for the poor. The driver turned on the radio and asked the boy which station he’d like to listen to. Hugo merely responded with an address not even glancing at the driver. The car started with a jerk. The well-dressed young man looked at the driver’s worn shirt collar and decided he’d tip him generously once he’d arrived at his destination. In front of him, through the windscreen, the old city loomed until the gleaming buildings of New Manhattan appeared. Hugo opened his pocket Bible and read the Book of Ecclesiastes by following along the words with his finger. Euphorically, he started tearing out pages and tossing them out the window. The driver watched him through his rear-view mirror and mentally calculated the fine his taxi could get for paper being thrown out of it and onto the street. If the boy wanted to throw away his fortune, he should do it inside the car. His taxi could be found any day, even without a permit. Any police officer would know that. When the car stopped in front of the church, Hugo asked the driver to wait for him and ed him a wallet full of money. It would take him a few minutes to count it. Hugo climbed up the stairs until he could see inside the building. It was full of faithful believers, who, with their arms raised and their eyes closed, were in a trance. The pastor’s assistant was making signals to the DJ to turn the volume up or down, to increase the equalizer, and to find a balance between the singing, a special echo and light effects. One excited man was shouting loudly. “Jesus is Lord! Hallelujah! Jesus is Love. Jesus is Charity! Jesus is Freedom! Surrender your heart. Let the love of God enter you and quench the thirst of your soul. Jesus loves you. Now! Hallelujah!” “Hallelujah!” Hugo shouted, although no one saw him. He screamed the word constantly using all the air in his lungs, occasionally interrupting the omnipresence of the Lord. The faithful kept their arms raised and their eyes closed as Hugo crossed the nave toward the Pastor. The speaker was spitting

saliva as he sang. Perspiration ran down young Hugo’s head. With each word, the audience was consumed with anguish. Hugo swallowed to keep his mouth moist. The sweat pooling under his armpits was being cooled by the breeze blowing through the open church doors. He raised his arms and closed his eyes tight. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” No one was bothered. Everyone appeared to be filled with ecstasy. As the young man, now a silent penitent, continued walking down the nave, he fixed his eyes on the Pastor, who noticed a glow in the boy’s hands. The Pastor decided he represented the theme of the day. As he prepared to offer the boy an embrace of faith, he felt a cold blade slice into his stomach and his blood gush out. He felt no pain. He felt hate but no pain. The ceiling crumbled and the floor rose. The young man, his hands red, ran from the church while the faithful still had their eyes closed. A slim female in the front row screamed in despair. It was the end. The Pastor’s ebony skin was turning crimson with blood. Outside the church, the driver still hadn’t finished counting his money when Hugo jumped into the driving seat of his cab and fled, burning the tires on his way. The taxi man looked up and watched his car as it disappeared into the distance thinking he had won. Then four thugs from the church’s security team ran by him as if he didn’t even exist. Now with no vehicle to drive, the taxi man walked to the nearest subway station. He’d find out what had happened from tomorrow’s newspapers. If he watched TV or if he had spent his new found fortune on a similar banality, he would have found out earlier, of course.

Japan Kiryu returned to her tiny home twelve stories above the ground. She grabbed a random meal from her pantry and opened it. She watered the pots with the juice from the can of beans, dumped the solid contents onto a plate, stirred in olives, and watched the news on TV as she ate. As usual, there weren’t any messages on the interactive dating service she used, but from that night on she’d never feel alone again. Molecular intra-polished metal micro-rings were now a reality. She had discovered how to control the force of gravity before anyone else and without anyone’s help. Inertia was an academic anachronism and unified field a theory for a specific use. She’d no longer need to beg for grants or teach mediocre youths. She wanted to free herself from her monastic life and her destiny as an unproductive investigator. If she stayed in Japan, she would die anonymously and delay the history of humanity a few more years. No. Instead, the modern Middle Ages would discover a new rebirth. Energy would no longer divide the world into rich and poor. Her discovery belonged to everyone and the only way she could continue to universalize happiness was by starting anonymously far away from the big centers but close to large towns.

New York

The limousine drove down the avenue toward the periphery of the large, old, dilapidated block, where financial clusters had become escape zones. Juan Canarió and Hervé Dorneles, the executive of the Madrid-Paris connection, were meeting there for a business lunch. After a week, being alone and clothed in the limo felt strange. Not having Melina’s warm, moist gave him a sense of visceral absence. The rest didn’t interest him. It was anti-rejuvenating. He was no longer interested in the outside world. “Stop the car,” Juan growled. He got out of the vehicle without waiting for the driver to open his door for him. Two security officers emerged from the car behind them and approached the Head of State. Their escorts also stopped the traffic. As he stood in front of the building’s white façade, Juan’s sun-red skin contrasted with the cloudy day. “Are you okay, sir?” asked the chauffeur, his fingers interlinked. Juan unbuttoned his jacket, loosened his shirt collar and replied with a smile. “Young man, you mustn’t believe you know everything in life. Surprise is the only certainty.” He leaned back into the car to grab a folder and started walking. His security team accompanied him. A few more steps and Juan would be breaking all the rules. The head of security hadn’t anticipated this and was afraid of possible consequences, even though there had been no previous history of attack or violence against this person. Juan continued walking until he saw a small store with flowers. He wrote a note in his own handwriting and made an online payment for the flowers he wanted sent to Melina: two dozen blooms every thirty minutes. He then returned to the car and behaved like an old man again. Just at that moment, Melina was running her hands over her legs, stretching and pulling on stockings. She glanced at her watch and ordered a driverless car. Juan’s elderly secretary asked Melina where she was going but Melina didn’t answer. “That woman is out of control,” the secretary thought.

“The share price has risen, Mr. President,” an artificial voice from the Jus Foundation reported. Seated at his table, William F. Jus entered the necessary information and gave his buy and sell orders. Less than three minutes later, specialized press organizations were trying to him. The assassination of a religious leader had triggered the release of additional funds for the program to Christianize the Far East. More and more investors were counting on profits, congesting their stockbrokers’ phone lines. Trillions of Eurodollars exchanged hands among hundreds of people and institutions in less than two seconds. A single news item was saving the day for the Jus Foundation. The shocking death of the Pastor was a reminder to economic centers of the importance of horizontal evangelism in the resurgence of the global marketplace. The more Christians in the East, the greater the guarantee that Western industry could survive. Without sounding the alarm, the Foundation had done its job. Nevertheless, Jus did wonder why Hugo had acted that way. It was quite unusual and not the way they had agreed. Hugo was disoriented. During his escape in the taxi, he’d run over two girls and ended up crashing the car into the window of an appliance store. The glass had broken and several screens and speakers had shattered. He nearly ran over one of the ersby who was watching the latest news. The top two items were Pastor Jefferson’s death in New Manhattan’s Black District and the stock market closing on a high at the end of the day. After getting out of the car, Hugo walked through a group of curious cyclists. A paramilitary deployment arrived immediately but found no one. The most recent registration of the taxi they found was from more than eight years ago. It hadn’t been renewed since and there was no information about the driver’s identity. The bodies of the two girls were collected while an innocent bystander pretended to be crazy and in a great hurry to leave. The electronics store had insurance. Meanwhile, a woman in a sports car picked up a well-dressed boy with blood stains all over his clothing. The car was as quiet and unobtrusive as any other Spanish-style electric turbocharger. “There’s no place for innocent people in the modern world,” Herculano confessed to a good friend of his from two decades ago, the current Secretary of Finance for the North American government. “Today I learned a new lesson from the generation that has no dreams, no illusions, and no other aim than survival itself. That man has the power to change the world, but he’s not going to

bite the hand that feeds him. Meggie, my princess, history will never end well when the course of events is in the hands of such people. I’m afraid I’ve nothing more to lose and I don’t see the point of trying to fight against things I can’t.” At the other end of the line, Meggie sighed, “You’re getting old, my friend. Something will happen and the course of things will change. It always does. For better or for worse. It depends which side you’re on. Don’t worry about it. Get on your plane and I’ll talk to the boss. Our interests are also at stake. I’ve already been asked to send currencies as well as the allowed quotas. Depending on where these additional amounts are going, we’ll be able to make the congress aware that there’s a greater control of the Jus Foundation’s charitable activities inside the country.” “Whatever short life I have left is at stake, dear Meggie. I trust you.” “Oh, my dear old-fashioned friend, don’t say anything more and hang up. The cryptographic decoding code is 13.” There was a click and Margaret’s southern style of speaking disappeared from Herculano’s monitor. The only recording that existed of their conversation would be destroyed in a few seconds. Margaret pulled out a fragile, thumb-sized card from the base of the monitor and tore it easily with her fingers. She tossed the pieces of plastic in the trash and they became mixed in with the rest. In a motel room outside of town, Melina pulled some clean clothes out of her suitcase and removed the bloodstained ones while Hugo bathed. From the shower, he sang alternating soprano and tenor voices. You know I kill ‘em for you, baby You know I kill ‘em for myself I know you’re decaying in love But don’t get me wrong But don’t get me wrong ... Melina listened to him and waited for the right moment to enter the shower with him, quickly and without any particular intention. She was sure the boy would

leave happy. His flight was scheduled to leave four hours from now. Japan Before the day began, Kiryu wrote down the numbers she had dreamed of. It was a first estimate of her royalty payments over the next few years. Her experience with inter-nuclear reactions was paying off and she needed to put some practical applications in place outside of the conventional industrialization system and outside of trilateral trade. She’d have the money first and then the recognition. That same afternoon, she called the elevator and electrical engineering factory of her closest relative in the most populous country in Latin America. The prototype could be finished in a few weeks and the launch of the airelevator could be arranged fairly quickly. Civil construction would be their first priority and, in a few months, there’d no longer be any market for a conventional motor, rope or sliding elevator. In Kiryu’s mind, she had the power to change the world. Energy would no longer be a problem for humanity. She had the solution, which lay just a few inches from the floor of her laboratory. With that in mind, she began writing her letter of resignation from the Institute of Classical Physics and prepared to throw her academic career overboard. Her colleagues would only be told she was leaving her position as a scientist because she wouldn’t officially publish her plan. The laboratory would be dismantled without any clues being left behind. The scientific community would believe that her ideas were still far from being successful until some unknown asteroid was found, an asteroid whose substance was required to withstand enormous superconducting charges for practical application. For all intents and purposes then, she was leaving the country, sad and bitter, to face a job in a family business. The truth, however, was that Kiryu had discovered the magic key to economic power and thus to a cleaner, less wretched world all on her own. She was leaving Japan for the first time. New York While Melina was giving Juan a morning massage, she looked at the bedside clock and calculated that Hugo would have reached his destination by now.

“I made 370 million yesterday afternoon,” Juan said confidently to his woman. “Perhaps it’ll be enough to secure the State for the next few months. Still, I do think we should go home as soon as possible. I don’t completely trust that minister ... Yes, yes. That’s it. A little lower, there, ah ... yes ...” Melina drew invisible shapes on Juan’s wrinkled back, and slid her hands down his legs to the tips of his feet. A little camphor, a few kisses in the right places, and he’d go back to sleep all morning, too exhausted to do anything other than dream of his goddess. In no time, she was up and dressed. She went into another room to call Hugo. He answered her in a sleepy voice, his hair still wet. “I can’t bear to be without you. Suddenly, I’m terribly afraid to think that never again ... I need to be with you more than ever. I know, I don’t want to fall into the usual clichés, but on the phone it’s easier, more romantic. I adore you. I love you. Okay. That’s it. As soon as I change hotels, I’ll call you again. We’ll keep in touch. Bye.” Venezuela Hugo had another mission to complete. He had planned to have the Prime Minister out of the game before Juan, the President, arrived. In this country, a First Lady could dissolve congress if the President was unable to. This law had survived longer than the former First Lady, who had instituted it in the absence of the President. The Prime Minister was expected to arrive the next day at a hotel in the neighboring city. As Hugo waited for that moment, he decided to shave and buy some new clothes suitable for the local climate. Even at the young age of 23, Hugo had already acquired the necessary experience in the youth armies of the Middle East. He had soon realized the usefulness of knowing foreign languages and had learned how to earn money by using his greatest skill: erasing people from the face of the earth as if they were garbage. No questions asked. However, it was the first time he had felt the power that exists between the legs of a woman capable of placating an entire army. Weakened yet empowered at the same time, he could kill her if he knew how he’d be able to live without her afterwards.

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New York Thousands of people attended Pastor Jefferson’s funeral. Most of them were mulattoes, the poor, immigrants or the lost. None of them understood the value of ending the life of a simple man with little ambition; a man who had turned down the offer to become a United States Senator because of his faithful followers and, above all, a man in favor of religious freedom and against the high tax rates imposed on foreigners and their employers. The silent crowd started singing until paramilitary troops arrived and threatened to disperse the crowd with jets of water and sand. Later, the news would report that police forces acted to prevent the body from being damaged as it was being buried. It was a very common excuse those days. Jus now understood that Hugo was under someone else’s orders. All clues to the murder pointed to a lone lunatic in a trance. That way, there wouldn’t be much agitation and the pastor would become a martyr without much popular . In short, there was no indication that it had been a professional killing. Two months earlier, when Hugo had received the list of personalities who were against the causes and objectives of the Foundation from Jus himself, his method of elimination would, in all cases, have been categorized as political-religious crime. No hesitation. This change of modus operandi—no prior threats, no notice to the media, no waiting for statements and protection actions regarding the victim as initiated by the Foundation—led Jus to think of two possibilities: either Hugo really had gone crazy or someone else had entered the picture. A corpse without all the characteristics of death due to political or religious reasons would never have caused uncontrollable insurrection. If it had, it would have been one more excuse for state repression. Who’d be interested in something like that? The Foundation’s goal was to remove obstacles, not create them. A black pastor stabbed by one of his parishioners during a work accident? That’s the hand of God, not man. It was a missed opportunity not conducive to the mission. Toward the end of the morning of the funeral, the stock market was back to normal without any great changes. An opportunity to pool money so as to combat the worldwide decline in evangelism had been missed. Whoever was

behind Hugo’s action must have the same list of victims. Jus had to try and rethink his plan. If it continued to appear that the remaining victims had succumbed to a natural death, the evangelization program wouldn’t receive the necessary votes from the World Council. And if it was unable to reveal its internal enemies or glorified martyrs in due time, Christianity wouldn’t survive. For the past five years, the Foundation had managed to prevent the degeneration of the Christian world. It was Jus’s promise and he was making sure of it. Thanks to the Jus Foundation, the world’s economy was becoming theocratic corporatism, where poverty had a fundamental purpose. With the death of the last Pope, the rebirth of the Islamic empire, and the dismantling of Catholic and Orthodox organizations, the Jus Foundation had assumed responsibility for maintaining the structure of the Church in the various countries in which it operated. As a result, the evangelical community now encomed the entire Christian population of the planet. The pagan world was limited. It was a world that had no leaders who were recognized as Christian, who had varying dogmas and moral rules, and who were immensely richer. La ilaha illallah. Allah is the only God. “Not while I live!” William F. Jus thought. Apart from this, Jus had no other ambition. And if the enemy didn’t reveal itself, it would be Jus’s job to do so. It was getting closer and stronger. War would be inevitable. Tensing his face, Jus made a decision about the next step. “Ketrin, find Olga Löscher. Make sure she’s here as soon as possible.”

Brazil As she looked out the plane window, Kiryu could guess where she was. She had slept all day and, after rubbing her eyes, she made out a horizon with almost no curvature and no sign of the sea. Her last stopover had been San Francisco. Inside the plane, a dozen happy tourists were making a great deal of noise before landing. A boy next to her was trying to carry out a conversation in English, Spanish, or Portuguese ... whatever. Kiryu suspected she would like her new country. Emerson, her Brazilian cousin by marriage, was waiting for her at the airport and handed her a letter from his wife, Ichizu. She had just given birth to a girl whom they had also named Kiryu. After completing the bureaucratic formalities to enter the country and collecting her luggage, they traveled together almost four hours by car until they reached a small town, the center of the metallurgy industry. Emerson spoke, breaking the silence. “We’re here. Ichizu has prepared a banquet for you full of raw food.” Kiryu smiled but didn’t understand a word. She deduced it was something nice. Emerson tried again and made gestures of eating from a bowl with chopsticks. This time Kiryu laughed and started speaking loudly and quickly in Japanese. Emerson was pleased to have broken the ice. Although he didn’t really speak her language either, they seemed to understand each other. He just hoped he wasn’t wrong. His command of Japanese went no further than what he’d learned in school and what he practiced with his wife. In any case, Kiryu had been the only Japanese woman at the airport. Once they had arrived and parked the car in the garage of a huge house by Japanese standards, Kiryu’s cousin, Ichizu, waddled toward her, somewhat bowed due to a cross-shaped scar―the result of natural medicine caesarean section surgery―that had not yet closed. Kiryu’s hug was so intense, Ichizu almost forgot her pain. Kiryu’s feeling that she had made a good decision gradually increased. She felt she was finally in the right place to start changing the world. After dinner, Kiryu opened one of the boxes containing the laboratory equipment she had brought with her. Inside was a foot-long sheet of metal made from the

same superconductive coating material she had disabled in Japan. She laid the sheet down in the middle of the room and, after planting both of her feet firmly on it, taped two threads to the ends of a Leclanché battery and squatted. Her cousins clung to each other, laughing yet curious. Kiryu told them to watch and rested the ends of the threads that were ed to the battery on the surface of the sheet. There was a sudden jerk and her expression of fright, due to the lack of balance, changed to one of satisfaction as she saw the wide eyes of her spectators. Emerson and Ichizu looked upward. Almost touching the ceiling now, Kiryu tried balancing herself on the sheet in order to sit more firmly so as to perform a lateral movement.

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Venezuela A few latitudes to the North and some days later, Juan Canarió disembarked from another plane with his wife and immediately made his way to the presidential palace where preparations were underway to receive the First Lady. Unsuspecting, the press continued waiting for them at the airport. Upon their arrival at the presidential palace, the couple was received by all the ministers except one, the Prime Minister. Juan’s health was getting worse, but he managed to keep a smile on his face the entire time. Everyone’s attention was focused on the statuesque woman he had brought from his last trip. She would represent Juan in all urgent decisions needing to be made over the next few hours. She was a foreign woman in their country. In 2029, the date of the latest agreement, Juan had been chosen at the polls to ensure democratic stability during the transition from a presidential system to a neo-parliamentary system, from Prime Minister to President for life. A decade later, signs of his impending death were gradually transforming the country into a time bomb. The current Prime Minister wanted to take full control and call elections to choose the next President. Of Jewish and atheist descent, the Prime Minister was open to a market toward the Pacific Ocean, which would cause considerable losses in the short term and compromise political-religious hegemony in Latin America. A First Lady would hinder his plans. This situation had motivated Juan’s trip. He had been looking for capital to guarantee his place in the next elections. He had received the money and the first investment he had made was to hire a wife. Melina was a much better recruit than he’d been expecting. She was beautiful, intelligent and inexplicably desired by anyone who looked at her. With the presence of a legal wife and the attack that had been made on the Prime Minister, immobilizing him in the ICU, the fate of the country was unknown, like the woman herself. Her photos in the media and her smile on screens had conquered the public before she had even arrived. They were ready for her and a crowd filled the street under thousands of umbrellas. Melina and Juan were expected to be out on the main balcony in a few minutes.

The executive cabinet itself believed her presence was a blessing. It didn’t matter much how she behaved. She was Juan’s chosen one. New York Olga Löscher was wearing boots when she entered Jus’s office. He didn’t get up to greet her. Olga stood like a soldier facing the field marshal. Her expression was steel and observers might even think she wasn’t breathing. Even Jus had felt insecure the first time he had met her, during the first European transcontinental walk, before the united Arab movement had closed ports in Africa and the Mediterranean. Since Löscher had educated and trained Hugo, perhaps she had feelings for him, whatever they were. ing that fact, Jus relayed her mission. “Löscher, someone has taken control of the destiny of history and has decided to play their cards. I want to know if Hugo acted alone or if he’s under someone else’s orders. I need to find out why his behavior changed and prevent him from continuing to act in this way. Löscher finally looked at Jus. “Sir, the Prime Minister of Juan Canarió’s government is brain dead due to an attack. I’ve received information about Hugo’s actions. Parts of an NH-23 explosive were found in the remains of the car in which the Prime Minister was traveling to the airport where he was to receive the President on his arrival. We believe Hugo’s still in the country. A special team has already been dispatched.” Jus sighed. “In short, Hugo has completely betrayed us.” “Sir,” Olga replied without much conviction. “I’m asking for permission to protect Hugo’s life until a final decision has been made by the higher council. He’ll be immobilized and protected under surveillance.” “That’s precisely what I expected you to say. We need to know who’s involved. Dismissed!” Olga exited the office leaving behind memories of her dancing in front of Jus―images from a time when faith in destiny made a seven-thousand-kilometer journey from Africa to Central Europe successful. If the food wouldn’t come to the town, the town would go to the food. Almost three hundred thousand souls had walked among rags and Red Cross wagons, closely accompanied by entire

armies, crossing borders and suring all limits. It had been a scene of horror for some, a hope of victory for others. Brazil Kiryu was visiting Emerson’s small factory, a warehouse with ten employees, a blast furnace, twenty-year-old machines and a large modern autoclave controlled by biocrystallized “chips” imported from China by a former partner. She had no idea how to produce her discovery on an industrial scale but relied on her cousin’s practical knowledge. Excited, Emerson taught her about the company’s production capacity. During the economic boom at the beginning of the first decade, he had distributed more than a thousand improved tons of iron and aluminum sheets as well as steel bars for construction. That was a time when he had 300 public employees. Today, he had a more reasonable production and by installing freight elevators with electric engines, they were functioning as a strategic branch of Armie Investor, a transnational company with a small share in the Jus Foundation. Kiryu revealed the simplicity of the intra-polishing process, using in natura ionization of the mineral raw material and then immersing it, still in its liquid state, in an electrostatic bath inside the autoclave. Once Emerson had understood what her pencil sketch meant, his jaw dropped and he smiled like a small child on seeing a much-desired toy. In that case, according to production estimates, their first step was to build a large-dimension intra-polished metal electric generator to supply the factory’s output. The intra-polishing process would highlight the magnetization properties of the metal by providing permanent electromagnetic induction. The perpetualmotion dreamed of by physicists had become a reality. “This isn’t a generator, it’s a power plant with the capacity to power an entire city. Do you understand that with this permanent generator alone we could turn the world upside down?” “Let’s make sure what we have first,” Kiryu replied waiting for Ichizu to interpret simultaneously. Emerson continued, “If you’re thinking long term, an electric power distribution network produced by superconductivity technology would be uneconomical and wouldn’t have any chance of filling jobs at other companies. It would be much

more efficient to manufacture small, specific generators for each situation, thereby replacing traditional disposable cells and batteries. Once the competition becomes aware of this form of energy and wants to buy us out or copy us, we’ll already be ahead of all that. In any case, our elevators will only be the beginning and when the big companies begin to collapse, we’ll already be on top.” Emerson opened his arms wide enough to hug both his wife and Kiryu and continued, “This design of a permanent generator looks like an old-fashioned electric engine without any input or thermal dispersion units. If you’ll allow me, I think we can improve on the design. With these dimensions and in the situation we’re in, I think my staff and I will be able to get that turbine up and running in about two weeks. The most complicated part will be paying a fine for exceeding the company’s available electricity quota to prepare the intra-polishing for the main body and the rotating shaft. That will be our first and only debt.

Spain “The 10% commission on the rent will be forgotten again and the risk of property being confiscated will be higher.” Herculano was explaining his predictions in a speech to the entire European congress. On his response monitor he could see how many and which deputies agreed with his apology. His text was a tribute to the performance of the Jus Foundation, on behalf of the people who had suffered the most on Earth, to balance the chaos of recent years. And since his words weren’t directly addressing the matter at hand, comments began arriving at his terminal, all containing the same question. “Is it subject to conditions, or released?” Herculano ended his transmission by thanking everyone for their patience. Then he called up his American friend using code 13. “Sorry, I’ve never trusted these encrypted lines—” At the other end, Meggie responded “Don’t worry, 13 can be used safely today. You won’t be recording the conversation, will you? Our only danger is if the files are discovered.” Herculano glanced at the dialog box in the corner of his monitor, which indicated that the recording was still on. He was afraid Meggie might have a parallelfrequency diversification detector. No. She trusted him, so he hoped he wouldn’t have to go against her or use one of the recordings. “Meggie, I’d be the first person at risk if a story like this got out. Tell me what we have so far.” “In any case, I can’t give you any names but it would be difficult to open an investigative channel around here. He has more than two-thirds of the entire national sector and without a public reason the numbers won’t come to light. Unlike in Europe, our boy takes good care of those that are chosen. I honestly believe the actual plan is to undermine what was left of the old world and make an agreement with its conquerors.”

“Don’t talk like that. The fact is, if we don’t open the doors for good reasons, they’ll destroy them for bad reasons. Do you think anyone would be interested in transforming the entire continent into a kind of Israel before the decline of Palestinian apartheid?” “You already know who’s interested in a war like that. The Slavic disintegration has brought benefits to Europe.” Herculano listened to these last words and noticed his arm had gone to sleep. He also ed the moment at which his casting vote had decided the agreement with the Islamists on the use of Mediterranean ports for free trade. Perhaps, without that act, he’d still be in control of contributions. Perhaps contributions were even higher in cases of conflict. All those war orphans, prisons ... He finally understood that he had underestimated the scope of William F. Jus’s vision. “Thanks, Meggie. I’ll need to give some thought about how to fix the havoc I’ve caused these past few weeks. They’re already discussing disqualifying my mandate. I’ll have no way of defending myself if we don’t find fault with our Christian hero’s behavior. What’s more, I think I’ll have more time to dedicate to you very soon. Good bye.” At the other end of the phone the woman remained silent. Venezuela. Stroboscopic flashes lit up the crowds as Melina’s beautiful face captivated everyone. Hugo was watching everything from his hotel room. He had wounds on his back caused by shrapnel from the bomb. He had had to be fairly close to shoot. The city’s narrow streets and the absence of buildings hadn’t allowed for any rapid action. He had had to wait until the convoy heading to the airport had driven around a small square. Even so, he had wrongly calculated the distance to the target. With no natural barricades and without a long-range launcher, his only protection had been to throw himself to the ground before the explosion took place. He had been unable to escape the shrapnel. However, all these were circumstantial errors. His main problem had been underestimating the armorplating of the car transporting the Prime Minister. The unpredictable result was a dying man and chances that traces of his blood would be found in the middle of the square. How far could the limits of human endurance go? How could he

prevent them from discovering his blood? The worst thing was not having the right escape plan. Even if the launcher had been no bigger than a ballpoint pen and regular traffic noise had muffled the sound of the shot, the risk of being seen or injuring pedestrians was too high. Instead of back pain, he longed for Melina’s forgiveness. Olga Löscher climbed out of the white peacekeeping helicopter and ran toward her team’s outpost on the ground. At the military base located on the border with Juan Canarió’s nation, the latest news was that, to the surprise of the old mercenary, the blood found at the beginning of the projectile’s trajectory that had hit the entourage was that of the Prime Minister. DNA tests revealed the owner of the blood and removed any suspicion that the attack was local. Besides, another factor complicated the matter. “Hugo was injured,” Löscher muttered to himself. “That’s a bad sign. The boy is either making mistakes or wants to be located.” Melina had made no public statements by the time Juan left to go to bed. He only cared about the caresses of his beloved, the same woman who had conquered the country and the press, and who was already seated for her inaugural cabinet meeting. Wearing a skirt too short for a First Lady, Melina witnessed the men’s initial decisions. According to the 2029 Constitution, a First Lady had the same powers as her husband and it was therefore up to her to dissolve parliament and to call new elections or appoint the new Prime Minister. After the first signs of appreciation and confidence for the future of a country that was now in the hands of such a refined lady, the cabinet waited for Melina’s approving gaze. The newly elected Prime Minister, Mr. Galiardi, who was seated to her right, began to break out in a cold sweat as he noticed that underneath the table a naked female foot was sliding up his leg toward his knee. On receiving a look from the most exciting woman he had ever met, the former head of the military department stood up, thanked his colleagues for his appointment, and praised the approval of the First Lady. Such a show of trust made the powerful man feel proud. It was proof that Juan was still a martyr of the people, consecrated by God in all his actions. The speech provoked applause that was inappropriate according to protocol, and at the end, out of kindness and libido, they waited for Melina to get up first and

greet the new national formally. She kissed him fraternally on the side of his face that was facing the audience and, on the other side, she kissed him with her wet tongue, which almost reached Galiardi’s ear. As the sweat ran down the Prime Minister’s plump, smiling cheeks, it erased the marks of her crimson lipstick from his face. His bright eyes watched as each man in turn got up from his seat and walked toward him with outstretched arms and wide smiles. He also heard the pops of champagne bottles being opened. Death The chambermaid opened the hotel room door for the security officers. The guest, who was sleeping face down, held a gun in one hand and a syringe in the other. Blood was oozing from his back. Hugo was taken by surprise and fired three times at the chambermaid. Then, before he was able to get out of the bed completely, his reflexes having been weakened by the pain of the two-day infection, the security officers shot at him point-blank. They fired non-stop until they realized the bullets were going through his body like a sack of meat. “Rookies” was Hugo Löscher’s last thought before closing his eyes and imagining Melina telling someone where he was. Brazil Emerson had kept part of his promise. The self-generator parts required 76 hours of ionization in the autoclave. Some of the material available at the factory depot was being pre-tested by constructing a lower-load self-generator. Pure metal alloys were rare and cost more than they could afford. Kiryu frowned for an entire month and only spoke again once the photon lock on the self-generator had been removed and the turbine had begun rotating at 3,500 revolutions per minute producing an output power of two gigawatts. The selfgenerator would fuel production for the entire factory in the coming years and there would still be enough energy left to supply electricity to the residences connected to the project.

They would present their first airelevator in twenty days. With a bit of luck, the investor’s representative would order products for the next five years. Next, they would sell their profits from steel and ionized sheets, with their magic of negative weight, for civil construction and industry in general. After that, public recognition would arrive as well as attempts by their competitors to discover the process; then threats, legal obstacles and more. All that would require expanding the factory, setting up other manufacturing centers and gaining a better shareholder position with the investor. Later the second phase of the project would begin: transformation of the world’s economy by a Latin American country. The self-generator would replace conventional electric motors and batteries once and for all and pave the way for what would be the most important invention for Emerson and Kiryu: the Airmobile™, not just a hovercar, an air car, but a flying commercial train. A new industry. Rome. Abdullahl Malik’s gleaming bald head was hidden under a white cuffieh[2], and his sixty-year-old bearded face conveyed a certain air of satisfaction. His duty was to open the door of the Vatican every morning and allow tourists to enter, some of whom were faithful Catholics. Sometimes too there were public visits. Only prayers were forbidden. However, Abdul was easy to understand and he would lead the flock across the courtyard to the chapel without being disturbed by the murmuring of the sheep. Protected by soldiers, he felt generous and let in groups of forty to sixty people at a time. It was for this reason he maintained a good reputation among the elderly who attended assiduously and his days ed quickly. Undersecretary of the Emir responsible for the preservation of Italy’s historical heritage, and appointed official purchaser/supplier, Abdul loved finishing his duties before the end of the afternoon so as to enjoy the beauties of the place on his own, including his only, and beloved, wife. ing her, he would share dinner with friends and special guests like Rabbi Josiah Kurtzman. On that special night they talked about preparations for a party to commemorate the Israel-Egypt Transnational Agreement. Since the purchase of a large number of properties belonging to the former Vatican State, some rooms had been imible due to a demonstration of power by the Islamic Union. Abdullah Malik was given the great honor, privilege and duty to help transform the entire Vatican territory into a symbol of the Arab world. Allahu Akbar. God is great. They had succeeded. Brazil

Kiryu emerged from the bathroom nervously. Today was the day they were to present the airelevator to the investor. In the bedroom, Ichizu breastfed the baby while her cousin dressed. “Kiryu, come here and calm down!” “I’m just a bit nervous. They won’t understand its potential and might not want to put the cart before the horse.” “Put the cart before the horse? You’re learning the language so quickly! Come on, tell me what’s really bothering you. Tell me you’re afraid. It’s good to be a little scared. Cry. Scream if you want. Don’t try to pretend you’re stronger than you are. That’s a male defect.” Kiryu finished rolling up her towel, flopped down on the bed and looked at her cousin, snorting. “I thought I was ready for this moment. But if I’m reacting like this now, I wonder what I’ll be like when I face what’s to come. The implications are far greater than I imagined. The weight of responsibility still obeys the law of gravity.” Her cousin smiled and moved toward Kiryu motioning for her to take the baby from her. As Ichizu cleaned her nipples with cotton wool, Kiryu brought the infant to her own chest, letting the towel slip away, and felt the girl’s warm and cool skin at the same time. She trembled at the baby’s attempt to suckle her breast and blushed in front of her cousin. Venezuela Olga Löscher examined the hotel room. She requested authorization from the police commissioner to send the autopsy findings and samples to her army laboratory. She appeared unaffected by the death, and her subordinates thought the surnames an uncomfortable coincidence. For Olga, using his real surname would have been a sign of emotional turmoil compared to the one he had as a son, heir and lover. The country’s authorities wouldn’t take long to check Hugo’s background and would end up ing the origin of the coincidence between the surnames of a terrorist and a general. From that moment on, her career would be at stake if she didn’t act quickly.

Brazil Robert Mills and Gerard Bronson listened to Emerson as he explained the business possibilities of the airelevator. Kiryu filled in the gaps with quite plausible, if incomplete, technical arguments. She was explaining the relationships between potential energy and super gravity and the ease of working with an atomic weight less than or equal to iron, strong nuclear interactions, molecular destructuring, etc. until she noticed the two Americans looking at each other and checking their watches. The most ironic thing was that the speech was in Japanese, interpreted in the best way the sympathetic Ichizu knew how. For the Americans, this staging only served to distract them from their routine inspection of factory conditions. Actually, Robert was paying more attention to Kiryu’s beauty and believed from what he had heard in those days Japanese women still only accepted traditional marriage. An interracial approach would be interesting. Outside his country, far from his family, the idea made him tingle. And so, accompanied by a small audience of workers, the engineer and the inventor led the two representatives to the factory’s open courtyard. The center of attention was a conventional freight elevator with a metal floor and a cage-like mounting of bars around the perimeter. The Americans’ eyes were bright with curiosity. The elevator was suspended in the air a foot above the ground. They approached and walked around the phenomenon. Ridiculously, they got down on their knees to peer beneath it and searched in the ceiling for a crane. They looked at Emerson and Kiryu and at their invitation, entered the elevator as happy as two teenagers riding a roller coaster for the first time. Emerson facetiously asked which floor the gentlemen were going to and before they could say anything, they were crushed by the force that lifted them up 100 meters in less than 12 seconds. Robert Mills looked down and sat naturally on the metallic floor of the airelevator. “OK! Let’s start talking.”

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Venezuela. The official note distributed to the press revealed the name of Samir Ikba Izn as the Prime Minister’s assassin-terrorist. His criminal file and images were available at the multimedia center. His photograph was printed in all media along with thanks to the city police department and to the collaboration of the Jus Foundation Peace Force. On the same day, all media were full of small ments complete with bank numbers of charities and associations fighting against the Islamic empire. Official radio and television networks and thousands of licensed broadcasters also disseminated public service announcements with numbers. For all of this, Jus had sent an audiovisual message to Olga Löscher thanking her for services rendered in acknowledging the terrorist. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs had also made a formal acknowledgement to the Jus Foundation for the urgency with which they had sent samples to identify the wretched Iraqi. With original documents in hand, Olga Löscher had collected evidence from the port to the hotel registry, so that all the data collected, as well as Hugo’s age through the country, were replaced with the name of Samir Ikba Izn. From that moment on, the name of Hugo Löscher would be nothing more than a myth. Samir had a story, relatives and a meaningful life. Hugo did not. Melina was facing her husband’s bed. He saw her as his guardian angel—a blessing at the end of a long day. She saw it as an opportunity to complete her destiny as a woman. The omens of her childhood were coming true daily. She was living during a time when women were becoming dry inside, as if the greater and infinite power had become aware of human error and was determined to exterminate it. Now she was on the American continent, where the hemispheres of the planet touched. It was as if there were three Americas in one; the last stronghold in the world where there were still oases of hope. The stars had revealed their destiny to reconcile the world and the moment was approaching. That night Melina would announce Juan’s death and publicly take over his government. A few more months and the country’s oil reserves would be released at lower prices. In the modern black market, oil smuggling would suffer

the consequences. For the first time since Djihad Hakbur, the Islamic holy war that had managed to unite all the sons and daughters of Abraham and free their women from the burqa and submission, Continental America would subvert world order with unilateral action from one of its countries: cheaper oil and unlimited quotas. If streamlined reserves could last another thirty years, Melina would make sure they lasted less than five. That was just the first step and the world would see more. She knew things ordinary mortals did not. All the natural oil in the world would end in 40 years if rationing quotas continued to be respected. It was necessary to accelerate history and restore a shine to humanity. Someone had to do it. Melina would light the fuse.

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Brazil Satellites, cranes, all kinds of machines, military equipment, urban transportation, aircraft, industry, commerce ... everything that was decadent had become a source of income in the dreams of the two Americans to revitalize the world economy. Economic growth would bury stagnation forever, giving way to the future. Emerson’s voice fell like a shower of cold water on them. “So far we’ve only achieved satisfactory control of the vertical vector. The maximum horizontal speed we’ve achieved is five km/h. We need financial , improved equipment, biocrystallized computers and more than anything else, total security.” “Right,” exclaimed Robert. “We’ll capitalize on the market we already have. Anyway, there’ll be a line of credit opened in your name next Monday. Let’s install that marvel in the central building. Once it’s there, the board of directors will determine the use of the ionization process in all sectors, I’m sure of it.” Gerard seemed to disagree. “Right now, we have a hot potato on our hands. This generator, the intra-polishing and the possibilities of its large-scale use provide us with more short-term complications than solutions. The board of directors will probably think of a more restrained procedure. There are too many interests at stake.” Robert noticed a vague understanding in Kiryu’s eyes. It explained why the woman had decided to leave her country. Overtaking Chinese opponents, Japan had dominated the large-scale industrial market for more than 25 years. Its production of automobiles with electric turbochargers and its monopoly of energy companies, using seas, rivers, charcoal and oil, guaranteed the independence of the oceanic block. A great power, it had managed to emerge unscathed from the racial and religious contradictions that infected nations. The trilateral market component had made Japan a natural bridge between what was left of the civilized situation, between West and East, Continental America and Europe, encoming Africa, Asia and northern regions. Its tankers not only transported 85% of the world’s oil consumption, but also trust in its technology had conquered Islam. And in the modern game between forces, Japanese capital had subsidized the Arab expansion and had

guaranteed the largest share of rationing quotas with top quality gasoline. Considering the gradual total collapse of distribution and the absence of efficient energy alternatives, Continental America would be on the verge of becoming a great island. The United States alone, with 70 million hungry people, owed the Japanese banks more than their total GDP over 3 years. With all that in mind, Robert imagined that this is what had motivated this woman to escape her country. Jus was playing with his son, a Thai boy adopted after the Japanese invasion, when he got the call from Olga Löscher. The military woman’s face had appeared in the lower corner of the large flat screen in the mansion’s game room, interrupting the few hours that father and son had to participate in the New Worlds program and play virtual reality games. Jus sent the boy to the other end of the 100m² room and listened to Olga, the only authority besides Jus with access to the main monitor. “The First Lady has called a meeting with leaders of the peace forces. She’s requesting our to eliminate the oil cartel and is counting on our aircraft carriers to protect the tankers.” “Be more specific,” Jus ordered, zooming in on the general with his remote control. “After announcing the death of her husband, she claimed the office of President by right as stated in the Constitution with a population consent rate of 78%. She convened parliament via TV and announced a new price for exported oil 55% lower than the established price with unlimited quotas—” “What were her arguments?” “Based on data I’ve been able to access, she has promised five years of prosperity if in the short term oil reserves are transformed for the technological and financial benefit of the nation. The First Lady, now President, believes that the country consumes only 2% of its own oil and is already developing an advanced charcoal production program with such success there’s no reason to participate in global rationing. She has declared that rationing is blocking the economic viability of progress in creating alternative energy. Whoever has oil and doesn’t need it should sell it at the best price.” “Reactions?”

“None yet. They’re waiting for the Foundation’s response.” “Terrific. Let’s prepare the aircraft carriers so they can be made available to Melina as soon as she finds a buyer for her oil. Over.” On receiving the order, the general’s image left Jus’s field of vision and was replaced by one of a pizza-like graphic turning and splitting. In each slice, alphanumeric symbols flashed rapidly over a multi-colored background. Jus pointed at one of the slices and it flared up statically before him. Continental America would take no chances. As long as there was dependence on oil there would be a market. He drew new numbers in the air and repeated the command aloud. “Channel 430.” New Worlds. With almost the same inflection, he called his son back. In a few hours, the Foundation’s biocrystal brain would have worked on the new data and facilitated 27 different lines of istrative action for the following days. His son ran to meet him with his virtual reality game helmet on his head. Rome Over dinner, Rabbi Josiah announced the sad news of the South American prime minister’s death. He held back information about responsibility being attributed to a certain Iraqi because he knew of the existence of radicals still opposed to the new version of the Qur’an. His grief disappeared when he received confirmation of his suspicions from Emir Aziz Gibran himself. There was no record of the existence of Samir Ikba Izn. Between toasts of olive liquor, they were served tender suckling pig ribs, obviously a genetic variety, free of the impediments of faith―a new and increasingly popular habit among the new Islam ruling classes. Brazil In the airelevator, Kiryu returned Robert’s glance and he realized she wanted to speak. Using a mixture of Japanese, Portuguese and English, she was able to make him understand her perfectly. “The world isn’t united yet. I left my past behind on behalf of the future I believe

in. If we let this new technology fall into the hands of big cities, we won’t be helping anyone. They’re simply going to monopolize it like they always do. It’s human nature. They’ll want to transform energy into a cost-free business. I can’t imagine a world with self-generator plants financed by multinationals selling at a high price something they get for free. I imagine independent citizens in any country. I imagine people as owners of their own self-generator. I imagine the end of a large collective power and the beginning of individual power. That’s why I left my country, to revolutionize the world and become the richest woman among the wealthiest people.” She finished with a facetious smile and pressed the airlift’s down button. If it had been another time, a generation earlier perhaps, Robert would have interpreted his feelings as sudden, overwhelming ion. His conservative upbringing, however, made him believe he only desired her organically. Reaching ground level, Gerard and Robert came to the same conclusion. They would open an investment channel and obtain a larger budget to expand Emerson’s factory and widen the search for potential intra-polished metal. The first units would be marketed in Brazil and its neighboring countries. Once the bomb had gone off in the media, there’d be no way to back down. The technology, patent and brand would definitely be in the hands of Kiryu and Emerson with the participation of the two American men. The great powers would bow. Their main strategy was to provide the third world with ammunition. That night the two Americans celebrated with the Japanese-Brazilian family and became accomplices of the dream. However, while Robert and Kiryu were talking with Emerson and Ichizu, Gerard looked at the bottom of his juice glass and imagined an self-generating submarine that might even fly: a warlike beauty of the sea and air, something that his friends had forgotten but which would be necessary in the future. Similar people have similar desires and they would always need someone to put up barriers. Gerard continued to sip his juice. New York The seventeenth alternative created by the Jus Foundation’s computer offered interesting data. The reason behind Melina Evren’s decision to lower the price of her oil could be because she had knowledge of a new potential energy. However, Jus preferred alternative number two, which described a pattern of behavior of opportunist women in similar situations throughout history: a pretty woman with

a mediocre past had fooled an illustrious personality with sex and was simply waiting for her inheritance. “Well,” the last remaining bastion of Christian supremacy thought, “what’s the price of a woman who owns a country?” Contrary to what might have been expected, shares traded on the trilateral market had risen with news of the release of the Venezuelan oil price. In reality, the buy-and-sell orders had begun right after the Jus Foundation had given its consent to guarantee business for the hypothetical buyer with aircraft carriers. Consequently, the oil offered at 55% below normal rates ended up being ed from one buyer to another several times over and its final price almost exceeded the established market price. Venezuela received an injection of almost 815 billion international yen payable over five years. No aircraft carrier was required to alter its route and Japan was guaranteed its hegemony in energy power. In the chess game of world order, the Jus Foundation had sacrificed a pawn but at the same time an opposing pawn had reached its last square on the Continental America board and had become queen. William Jus’s wild intuition was affected by his disturbed reasoning weakened by years of macro-power in the company of the cybernetic intelligentsia. However, the man who had once led crowds of protest against adversity would soon be resurrected. Brazil. A small footnote in a technical magazine, tuned to page 147 of the free web, reported the installation of a new type of elevator that was self-operating. Wireless, with no need for external electricity, fast, quiet, smooth and with an unlimited factory warranty, the airelevator didn’t require any maintenance and would operate forever. Over the past eighteen months already, about 1,475 airelevators had been installed in buildings scattered throughout Continental America. Devoid of advertising or adornment, but merely by winning bids and closing contracts, the revolutionary innovation was spreading by word of mouth. Moreover, Armie Investor didn’t worry when it lost control of the share quotas of a small metallurgical company located in Brazil to two of its business agents. Two months later, when the total sales balance noted the forecast of a potential market loss of 79% in a single semester, the large multinational acknowledged the new competition. However, it was already too late. The market had taken a leap for history.

Anno domini 2047 Emerson was happy to show Kiryu the factory’s new production line. With the four-dimensional vector, designed by the biocrystallized computer, the use of intra-polished metal had increased a thousandfold. With only ten employees involved in operational assessment control and four robots, they were producing 90 airelevators a day. With the four-dimensional vector it was possible to produce 300 airelevators in a 24-hour period and accelerate the industrial segmentation process without any employees or robots. In a few months, more than a dozen intra-polishing units would be launched in the main countries of Latin America. The vector was the solution to all problems involving the locomotion and speed control of intra-polished mass. Cranes and heavy tools were eliminated from the production line and vertical space gained relevance, quadrupling the capacity of the production area. Due to the biocrystal’s artificial intelligence, they were able to add movement and location memory to the intra-polishing method. In fact, each piece on the assembly line fitted together autonomously, without any outside help. Emerson spoke with some difficulty. Lately his lips had been insisting on maintaining a perpetual smile, which detracted from his dignity whenever he tried to speak seriously. “Ah, tomorrow. Tomorrow Robert and Gerard will be returning with signed contracts from the Venezuelan government and they are only the first of many. We’re going to rebuild the world.” “When will the project for the new Mexican capital be ready?” Kiryu asked with almost no trace of a foreign accent. “Well, architects are artists. They know our deadline is two months until filing but we need to be patient. After all, deg an aerial city with hanging gardens isn’t easy,” Emerson replied, trying to show how serious he was. “I can’t stand your face,” Ichizu said, entering the room and mocking her husband. “I know wealthy people laugh for no particular rhyme or reason, but you must we’re already starting to become famous. It’s no way to reassure the press. You spend all day walking around calmly with the prototype

aircar – the mystery race car – while I stay at home. The phone rings and Phoenix has already logged twenty threatening calls. Today she told me I should change my phone number once again and disappear from all social networks. She says it’s not logical for me to be available as the wife and family member of a celebrity. I don’t need a biocrystallized chinabrain telling me I need protection! We have a daughter. Don’t you realize they might try to kidnap her?” Emerson got up and hugged his wife. “‘You need love and security, I know, but I have bolder plans. Until our self-generators and aircars are dominating the market, we won’t have a fixed residence for a while. Gerard has already informed me that our little flying Fortress is finished. We’ll be moving there in a week.

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Continental America. During the first year after the launch of intra-polished metal and its applications into the industry, the countries of the Latin American bloc, under the orders of Melina Evren, signed an industrial protection agreement regarding technological innovation. At the beginning, non-intervention by the Jus Foundation had guaranteed the development of this new market, to the surprise of Europeans, Chinese, Islamic nations and Japanese. Nevertheless, the market in Continental America was rapidly changing and the Jus Foundation’s chances of survival diminished with each new product of the newborn intra-polished metal technology. Meanwhile, the leader of Christian philosophy had asked his biocrystallized partner for more information on alternative number seventeen with respect to Melina Evren. Moments before, it had suggested the elimination of those responsible for the new technology. Gerard Bronson was a confident man and would know the exact moment to act. If a young Japanese woman had decided to change the world in such a way that it was no longer under the Foundation’s control, her mission had already been accomplished and William F. Jus would pray for her kind soul. As always, God works in mysterious ways. Venezuela. Tongue. Old woman. Girl. Bus. Candy. Old woman. Candy. Noise. Saliva. Nausea. Old woman. Candy. Mouth. Bus. Noise. Mouth. Saliva. Girl. Old woman. Nausea. Bus. Tongue. Candy. Mouth. Old woman. Noise. Bus. Girl. Scream. Scream. Scream. Scream. Old woman. Scream. Girl. Scream. Candy. Saliva. Tongue. Scream. Heat. Bus. Scream. Old woman. Death. As Melina woke up, she pulled the sheets off her bed. She was nauseous and had an unpleasant taste in her mouth. The memory of her dream was an omen of her future emotions, a nightmare that her new role hadn’t destroyed with the rest of her past. The power of life and death surging from her childhood mind still affected her grown-woman heart. The desert of the war had been an escape route for a devastated country, and the bus, with its shattered windows, filtered the air and dust breathed in by the injured children and teenagers causing their dry throats to rasp with pain. However, a Belgian woman, who smiled as she walked

toward the bus, was carrying water and mint candies. She didn’t share them with anyone. “If anyone’s going to get out of here alive, it’s me! Does anyone here know how to drive a bus? Does anyone know the way? Who has the travel authorization papers?” As she talked, she sucked the candy with her lips. Her role in life back then was to search for refugees and bring them to the Red Cross camps located outside the perimeter reserved for the guerrillas. She received money, clothing and food to distribute among the engers and was never required to explain anything to the authorities. She had planned to buy a second bus as a result of the deal. She ended up having to negotiate, using food and clothing to buy the freedom of the unhappy people she transported. The trunk of the bus held family goods such as jewelry, property deeds, international deposit certificates, transnational company shares and even electrical appliances. The inheritance of living parents was the price of freedom for the children inside the bus. The Belgian woman smiled toothlessly. She carried her denture inside her shirt pocket. Melina ed her parents entering their ruined house for the last time and imagined the candy growing inside the old Belgian woman’s mouth, becoming stickier, heavier and more bitter, creating life and swelling as it reached the woman’s throat. Melina’s child eyes didn’t see those of the old woman trying to breathe. Within her child’s world she saw a throat exploding in blood and a disoriented bus with nowhere to go crossing the pathless desert. Then came the scream. Not just one but several. The other children were terrified. The scream woke the girl who saw a dead old woman on the steering wheel of a moving bus. This then was the scream that had awakened Melina Evren’s power of life and death. New York Ketrin entered the oval office and confirmed the presence of all of the Jus Foundation’s representatives worldwide. This including Hertell Holmes, the aerospace operations coordinator, who had traveled from the lunar station to planet Earth to attend the meeting. She had a special interest in airmobile technology. Her dream of making the Mars mining colony project possible could become a reality. Ketrin saw the veteran’s eyes sparkle. In the end, Jus was always right.

When William F. Jus walked in, all eyes turned to the one person who represented Western tradition in a destroyed idea-less world. The fifty men and women were there to decide the new technology’s fate. Months earlier, a unilateral Jus resolution had attempted to reduce the level of financing for the airmobile industry due to signs that Japanese funds were being diverted for its development. In reality, it was a payment for the released oil quotas. However, in doing so, the Foundation merely managed to strengthen Venezuela’s financial independence, and this had begun to attract the attention of other countries of the Latin American community. The Foundation’s non- policy, instead of weakening attempts by the new technology, ended up strengthening them. Hence the unexpected and extraordinary meeting. “Ladies and gentlemen,” William F. Jus began. “I must it I was wrong to underestimate the power of socially transforming airmobile technology. I was human and made an error of judgment. The forgiveness I ask of you now is also a request for help in the decisions we’ll need to make together, united in faith. We have a duty to preserve our history and to destroy this colossal force that is threatening our future.” Jus gestured to Olga Löscher to present images of the Emerson and Kiryu companies’ testing grounds. The flat-chested, slender woman in uniform rose and activated the room’s main multiscreen. “These images were obtained from a Fuhrer-22 flying over the area on a routine trip. It appears that the airmobile guys have no safety measures. At first, we thought it was a mistake but a later examination found that the area was imable. Why? Because a gravitational force field equivalent to a threehundred-meter-thick wall surrounds the entire project area. These vehicles are some of the military equipment they have developed. The images speak for themselves.” Occupying much of the office’s oval surface, crisp images of aerodynamically designed armored vehicles without wheels or tracks caused fifty mouths to go silent and noses to stop breathing. In formation, five bolides carried out aerial convolutions at reduced speed as if they were exempt from any weight or inertia. Then, in a split second, they suddenly scattered. Two of them plunged into the sea and the remaining three rose vertically and then dropped. At that point the images were reminiscent of seagulls playing in the air between loops and dives. A few seconds later, the five flying bolides followed the trajectory of the Fuhrer-

22 at a distance of less than ten meters. End of images. William F. Jus allowed the silence to become unbearable before speaking. “Fortunately, our pilot wasn’t pursued and he was able to bring us these images. Of course, that was the objective of the airbolides.” Jus looked at Hertell Holmes, who was gesturing that she wished to speak. He nodded his head and the only voice of planetary rationality present at the meeting was finally heard. “The public nature of all activities carried out on airmobile technology is evident. Innovations in the field of civil construction and industrial production are irreversible. I’ve received proposals that have quite fascinated me. It has become possible to build an entire city right here on earth and transport it to any part of the solar system at a much lower cost. We’ll be able to revitalize and stabilize the world’s economy in a few years. President Jus, I don’t see why we shouldn’t the development and expansion of technology at this level. Otherwise, we run the risk of delaying history. Much of humanity is already aware of the importance and omnipresence of intra-polished metal in their lives. In less than four years, from the first airelevator to the new aerial cities under construction, without forgetting continuous voltage batteries and continuous engines, the world is witnessing the birth of a new era. The century of death is becoming the century of life. Belief that the human species deserves to survive will return to public opinion and demographic indices will once again turn positive. In a few weeks—I think we’re all aware of it and some of us will even receive special invitations—the aircar will be launched into the world market and each unit will cost less than a ten-year-old car in use. As a final remark, I’ve been lucky enough to be away from Earth for the last two years and this has given me enough of a critical and historical perception to suggest that the Foundation take a vote on the new technology. If not, it will be the end of it as an institution.” She glared at William Jus, whose eyes were dry and dull. His brain was struggling to understand her reasoning. But his ideological and missionary goals had long since conquered any reasoning. A mist had covered his full knowledge of reality and had turned his thoughts to survival mode. “Evil has impregnated your heretic soul!” the meeting’s Chairman shouted, causing an unprecedented discomfort among all those present. For the very first

time, the children of the Foundation’s bureaucracy were seeing this man of faith explode. Live and on the air, they listened in terror to the voice of this man who had led crowds. Such a reaction had only been seen in old videos from the beginning of the century. “In the name of God, sister! Sister! Should I call you that? Has the corrupt power behind this farcical hope for new times blinded you?” His theatrical tone, after its first impact, then became more diplomatic. “May faith open all our eyes.” Jus took a deep breath. “This technology is the fruit of a Japanese dissident, a Brazilian failure and a Venezuelan prostitute. And it’s obvious that none of them has any scruples because I personally ed Melina Evren and offered to open the Foundation’s doors to new technology. I heard her say in her own words that the Foundation represented the past and its days were numbered. I, William F. Jus, was threatened. You no doubt all realized when reading the statement of reasons behind the action plan that the financial independence of Venezuela was an act of permission. The Foundation’s strategy foresaw the change in the balance of power and considered it a positive change toward helping the new government in its claims. Once this had been done, by ing the idea to release the price of oil and by not intervening in any purchase attempt, the Foundation counted on the bilaterality of the economic advantages that eventually arose. However, there were different interests in the game: the interests of individual power versus the interests of the poorest population; interests that transformed Latin American countries into a shame for Continental America. People are still hungry and the Foundation’s resources have been diverted ... to feed the airmobile industry! To build gardens in the air! To encourage their initiative! This is anarchy! Oligarchy! World disorder!” William F. Jus’s hand came to rest gently on the table but it sounded to all those present like a punch to the stomach.

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Sky In the Sky Fortress, two kilometers above sea level, Gerard Bronson was rummaging in the pockets of the flight control platform. Relieved, he found the flask. It contained a lethal substance waiting to be used. The career executive’s cold blood had been warmed up on meeting Melina Evren who was attending the tank demonstration at the Fortress lookout. In the control room, Gerard was imagining Melina’s bare thighs brushing together as if calling out to him. Gerard had planned the Sky Fortress’s construction and had negotiated the new technology under the hidden patronage of the Foundation. Simply put, he would need to leverage the interests of the Venezuelan government using the financial resources at his disposal to reinforce Emerson and Kiryu’s trust with a totally secure Fortress. Once everything was ready, all he had to do was add a little of the poisonous substance to the bottle of champagne and make a toast to the success of the airmobile industry along with everyone else. The leader of the peacekeeping forces was ready to invade the country and take control of the situation and of the new military equipment. But he hadn’t counted on Melina being there. They had all met three days ago. The idea was that Gerard would leave the dining room and go the bathroom. On his way back he’d bring the champagne. But instead, an exuberant woman with exposed thighs had left the table and followed him. Even though the door was closed, she entered the bathroom and undressed in front of him. She kissed his mouth ionately filling it with saliva and lipstick, yanked his shirt up, and pulled down his pants to suck on his desperately hard cock. Gerard closed his eyes and let his thoughts carry him away. She was the ruler of the host country and the owner of much of its money. Gerard only realized that the flask had come open and had fallen into the sink once he had opened his eyes to wipe himself. Melina had already left. Gerard felt the cold tile on his back and buttocks. His brain was paralyzed with desire. Melina had opened another bottle of champagne before Gerard had been able to collect himself and return to the table. However, now glancing at her, it was as if he had ceased to exist. She was now squeezing her pubis against the low wall of

the viewpoint and delighting in the magnitude of power she held in her hands. To Gerard, William F. Jus’s speech about Good and Evil was starting to make sense. Nevertheless, a new opportunity or authorization for another means of elimination would only come through personal communication, in code, from the American consulate. Bureaucracy was his kingdom. He was imagining a way not to have to eliminate Melina without altering the Jus Foundation’s plans. Perhaps Kiryu was the key. After all, she was the starting point of everything. Melina was just an opportunist. In the anteroom of the Sky Fortress command bridge, Emerson leaned his elbows on his chair arms and bent his trunk forward. He was concentrating on the monitor, which was displaying the numbers and charts of a young new empire. The airmobile industry had spread its virus and a short-term forecast indicated that the main venues of trilateral trade would need to react either by force or by negotiation. In any case, the Latin American bloc had definitively ceased its relations in of economic, energy and, above all, technological dependence with so-called Continental America, Europe and Japan. In five more years, every middle-class residence in Mercosur, its neighboring countries, and even the African continent would have its own generator. This is how it would be for every small or large-scale company. Mass transport would become an activity for tourists and children. Portable devices of all kinds would no longer require disposable batteries. However, the eradication of poverty among enormous population contingents depended on the attitude of the trilateral market. By transforming in the headquarters of comfort and modernity, the airmobile industry could bring foreign currency into the world and generate jobs in Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking American countries. “Don’t be afraid of all-out war. There’s no question as to who will win.” Ichizu had a wry tone in her voice as she walked into her husband’s office. “We haven’t yet carried out the specific force field capacity tests. They may not withstand a firm nuclear attack. Calculations don’t always reflect reality and even a biocrystallized brain has its limits.” She looked back at the monitor. “Robert and Kiryu don’t seem to be as concerned as you are. What’s more, I haven’t seen them for days. If it weren’t for internal tracking control, I wouldn’t know how to find them and I might even think they had fled.”

“Where to? A desert island?” Emerson asked smiling. “It’s very easy to become isolated inside this monster of intra-polished metal. Did you know that the distance from our personal rooms to this office is almost a kilometer?” Ichizu always exaggerated a bit. “You could have used the conveyor belts. Why walk if there’s no need?” From the time Kiryu had arrived in Brazil to the completion of the first phase of the Fortress, Emerson had gained fifteen kilos. His cheerful air at that moment had become more good-natured. “Come! Come here and sit on my lap. Rest a little.” “I need to walk and conveyor belts are stressful. It’s terrible to imagine a world in which human beings don’t need to use their own strength to move. Everyone’s getting fat like you.” Ichizu replied ignoring his offer. “It’s prosperity, my dear,” Emerson commented, rubbing his prominent belly with his hand. “This same prosperity will allow everyone to choose whether they want to be thin or fat. I’d be content if I were part of a large, happy population of old, young and chubby, well-fed children, masters of our own destiny.” New York Oil prices were falling without any expectation of recovery. The first announcements about the launch of the aircar infuriated the market. For the very first time, the Jus Foundation had received a direct message from leaders of the Japanese government requesting a meeting. This situation was only possible because of the unstable policy of the United States. Its highly diverse population already shared the dream of the airmobile industry with its southern neighbors. The tendency of the American Congress to control the s of international institutions had created a gulf between the political and commercial interests of the country and the public power of the Jus Foundation. The question demanded answers. The Jus Foundation had seized control over the police forces that had belonged to the United States at the time. It was a weakened country and one that had ed and trusted in the growth of a multinational institution. It now faced the prospect of an unprecedented crisis. While the arrival of a new technology had brought hope of a better world, it was

itself a threat to power and established order. It wasn’t an issue of questioning evolution, but of preventing revolution. The American government’s delay in deciding about the airmobile industry, even after listening to William F. Jus’s public homily in which he preached control over new technology or the commercial boycott of countries ing it, enabled the Japanese government to take the first step toward helping its Islamic and European clients. Their idea was to use the Jus Foundation’s peacekeeping forces for their strategic position and for their militia which had infiltrated throughout Continental America, mainly in the Latin American bloc. It was a difficult meeting. By rule, they were limited to two basic points: first, prevent the proliferation of airmobile industry products in the northern and southern hemispheres of the old world, by prohibiting imports or reviving the question of surcharges to guarantee the current market of Japanese and European products; second: study the viability of the use of force to control istration and those factories already installed in South America, thereby achieving control of the new technology seized from its rightful owner, Japan. To William F. Jus’s mind, it was an historic opportunity. In exchange for maintaining the status quo, Japan should allow the Jus Foundation to spread its Christian tentacles throughout its territory and much of China, as well as count on its to prevail over the Arab/Jewish union. Jus imagined his chances of reclaiming the Vatican and of rebuilding churches in Jerusalem. “God works in mysterious ways,” Jus thought after watching the audiovisual recording of the meeting. Everything was in his hands. It was all a question of time and faith. Jordan Yasmin, a Bedouin businesswoman, left the desert behind as she approached the Dead Sea. The smell of salty water filled her robust nose. As she knelt on the sand, her suit jacket clashed with the image she had of herself, one of silence and meditation. When the helicopter arrived, she was already on her feet. Her instinct in life was that of a wild woman. Daughter of Prince Abram, Yasmin had never imagined the magnitude of the problem that closing another good deal could entail. She had been called upon to assess the willingness of the business group, of which

she was the only representative in the West, to acquire an intra-polished metal generating plant manufactured in Venezuela.

Anno domini 2050 The show by South African singer Zambi was going to raise enough money to feed and provide medicine for ten million Chinese refugees for a week. Yukio Mishima had managed to gather an audience of 150 thousand people plus thirty million viewers on two of the world’s channels. In the era of mass multimedia and virtual TV, world channels were monopolizing the market with 250 different informational/interactive programs, broadcast around the world, 24 hours a day. In his calculation, about twenty million Euromarks would be deposited into Mishima’s private before the end of the program. This successful cosmopolitan businessman had become rich on Afro-Arab music outside of the black continent. At the forefront of original rhythm revivals, Yukio had become wealthy by offering controversial shows. That night he had brought a black artist into the heyday of German apartheid. The show appeared to be a success. The Nazi guerrillas had collaborated by murdering fifteen boys who weren’t of Aryan race right at the entrance to the stadium. The Jus Foundation had sent paramilitary reinforcements and the recorded images of the prison containing the pure German youths could increase ticket sales for the next concerts. It was all at the price of having peace in the world. Yukio felt fulfilled. Backstage, he was watching the noisy show and almost didn’t pick up the call from his business consultant. “What does this fat man want now?” He walked over to the editing room, the only place he could hear anything other than Afro-Arab music, and abruptly asked the caller, “Why are you interrupting me now? Tomorrow is the day reserved for bureaucracy! Come on! Let it go, eh?” On the other end of the line, a firm voice replied in the same tone, “Tomorrow you need to sign a contract for a show in Venezuela. At half past twelve. Try and be ready.” Before Yukio could launch a torrent of curse words in reply to this excess of confidence, the consultant continued, “We’re closing an exclusive deal with the

airmobile industry. It’s for the vectors we’re buying to energize the aerial cameras. ? They’ve chosen Zambi’s music for the airmobile launch campaign. It’s mass media. A business for Mars. Something that hasn’t been done for ten years. The government councils of Venezuela, Brazil, Chile and Argentina are betting high. There are rumors they’ll have troops with military equipment based on the new technology. They’re planning to make the aircar the symbol of the new era, hope for mankind, a breath of fresh air. And we’re involved in it all!” He finally breathed at the end. The silence was broken by Mishima’s now sensual voice “If you were in front of me now, I’d kiss you on the mouth!”

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Land The airmobile conglomerate brought together more than 7,000 industry representatives during the largest event of the century. The new technology already had companies of all types and sizes: construction, laboratories, mining, transportation, commercial groups, etc. These were all sectors benefiting from intra-polishing and natural energy processing eager to receive the outstanding symbol of newmodernism, the aircar. Its design was reminiscent of an ordinary car but with one particular difference. It had no wheels. Permanently suspended twenty centimeters above the ground, the aircar ensured an average speed of 420 km/h. Its automatic, anti-shock speed reducer provided a smooth ride on any surface. It tended to oscillate slightly over water with a depth greater than three meters but was not advised for fluvial or maritime crossings. It also featured conventional steering control, international network navigation engineering, and a luxurious interior the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the late twentieth century. The option of a launch model without total flight conditions above twenty centimeters came from the market itself. The aircar should be piloted by a driver accustomed to driving with wheels, but there was no need for any additional training. Obviously, some prototypes had been special orders. As Emerson loved aircars, his vehicle had complete flight autonomy and was able to reach 40 km in altitude and submerge up to two km under the sea. But it was just a whim and had no commercial purpose. It had a fantastic sales outlook. The price of an aircar was no more than 40% of the price of a cheaper wheeled car. Orders already made to the Latin American industry exceeded eighty thousand units per day. Without four-dimensional vectors, it would be impossible to satisfy the cravings of a new world, a world that would be born out of either war or peace. Mexico The MacroStadium of the aerial city in the Federal District of Mexico was captivated. It was floating half a kilometer above the other buildings. In the decorated center of the main floor, the Afro-Arab musical group was playing its latest hit on a floating stage, which moved up and to the sides in slow circles and under intermittent flashes of lights, leaving reflective trails in the atmosphere. Aerial reflectors were being projected from one corner to another illuminating the crowd. Most of the attendees were still moving instinctively away from the

flying lights, although the way in which the equipments’ four-dimensional vectors were programmed, they prevented any approach greater than 20 meters to a solid surface. The audience couldn’t help but be shocked or, rather, bewildered by the sudden entry of aerial motorcycles driven by naked women and bearing flags with the trademark of the new era. The key monogram of female empowerment was implicit in the symbol of the airmobile industry. The motorcycles flew over the stands and then parked while on stage holographic projections of each musician stood four meters high. Then the music grew over the silent crowd and the aircar itself entered slowly, illuminated by two spotlights, and glided twenty centimeters above the wooden floor of the main runway. You could have heard a pin drop. It was the latest model with its individual seat guaranteeing supremacy. A rhythmic sequence of drums accompanied the movement of the remaining aerial lights toward the yellow race car. The music resumed, accompanied by a strong rhythm. A hymn was being sung in the name of this new culture. The crowd watched as high definition, three-dimensional images were projected to show the versatility of the aircar on all types of terrain—streets and paths, deserts and jungles—performing unthinkable turns at more than 300km per hour and then flying close to the ground. The master of ceremonies’ tenor voice was full of emotion. He presented the aircar as a symbol of the new world conquered by humans. He drew the public’s attention to the prominent vault at the base of the MacroStadium, which rose and shifted to one side to reveal the silhouette of the Sky Fortress parked in flight just under a kilometer above sea level. The black mass, whose base was fifteen hundred meters long, covered part of the starry sky. To accompany the tenor’s enthusiastic narration, an escort of armored aircraft emerged from inside the Fortress. The cross-formation of the airtanks revealed the production of a local-range force field. Next, a commercial airelevator for port use, prior to the manufacture of intrapolished metal aircontainers, began descending from the mother ship perpendicular to the center of the runway. The airelevator carried the three couples who had revolutionized its production: Melina and Gerard, Emerson and Ichizu, Robert and Kiryu. The fragile Japanese woman trembled while Melina blew kisses. Emerson with his permanent smile waved to the crowd. A feeling of recognition came over the master of ceremonies. “Una obra maestra

es para siempre! Let’s give a hand and shout our thanks to the heavens for this gift of progress. Angels are all around us and humans will have a guaranteed place in our immense universe!!” The MacroStadium vibrated in unison with the world population of viewers. And, on that day, the world restarted its history with nine billion applause. New York He was upset by Melina’s instability. His painful suffering caused his saliva to become acidic. His stomach clenched. Who was this woman? Abnormal lustful power welled up from her every pore. Gerard would never have imagined that his judgment would be undermined by an exaggerated sexual drive, especially after he had turned forty. It was a crazy, impure world and a pretty woman had it within her grasp. He had failed in his main mission. As of the international launch, Emerson and Kiryu were world personalities directly related to the airmobile industry. Eliminating heroes was something beyond his means but Melina, his greatest regret, had stood in his way of occupying a place among the greats. Beside Emerson and Kiryu, Gerard was nothing more than a competent adviser. “The Sky Fortress was my idea. I assessed all the risks; I obtained the release of international funding. The vision of the unimaginable potential of intra-polishing technology came from me!” Embittered, Gerard’s confused brain ed his first meeting with William F. Jus years ago in detail. “I understand your situation, Gerard,” the Foundation’s protomartyr chatted amiably, like Judas had in his day. “You took on the mission to obtain resources to install the biocrystallized brain so as to rationalize the airelevator production line.” “Mr. Jus, I believe the Foundation should endorse a technological innovation of this magnitude immediately. I feel obliged to confess my inexperience, as well as that of my clients, especially the creator, Ms. Kiryu. She believed that all this would only be possible by obtaining philanthropic resources from technological patrons.”

“Gerard,” Jus replied, changing his tone. “You know I received you here knowing what I needed and I appreciate that you’re keeping me informed. I’m sure you’ll leave here with all the necessary funds to develop the intra-polish technology. The modern world needs this revolution—” “Of course―” “But there’s one small detail. Kiryu is a fugitive from her country. Unfortunately, she’s nothing more than a thief, a vulgar spy who’s opportunistic and selfish. The world doesn’t need any more rabble like that.” Gerard’s pupils dilated as he listened to William Jus. “However, Gerard, I see a Christian spirit in your personality. I appreciate your honesty and trust your willingness. I need your help so that this technology doesn’t fall into the hands of explorers and instead returns to its place of origin.” Jus stood up just as General Löscher entered. He took his leave with a warm handshake and a kiss on Gerard’s cheek. The general, now alone with Gerard, pulled a flask from her bag and explained what he would need to do with it when he had the opportunity to propose a toast. Death would be immediate and painless. She also ed him a file containing information on each of the technology pioneers, in which there were some unresolved questions. “How had Melina Evren known, before intelligence, about Kiruo and her plans?” Sky “After the first man, the rest is easy,” Melina commented to Ichizu. The woman of the world was together with Emerson’s wife: the dominant woman and the submissive woman. “I think your mission as a female is more important than mine. You didn’t give any thought to your remaining options in life. Always looking smart, searching for a husband, having children and raising them were your only goals. Meanwhile, I had no opportunity to learn to be like that. My fate was written for me.”

Ichizu looked away from Melina in order to speak. “I get the feeling that what you did was run away from ivity. That’s what women of our time are like. I don’t consider you to be an example worth following. You took the model closest to you. Today women hold important positions in the main institutions of society and humanity is no better for it. Moreover, it was this situation that caused the appearance of the male phenomenon called William F. Jus.” Melina didn’t expect Ichizu to something like this and was unable to hide her surprise. “Where did you get that idea from? Do you mean you consider the almighty Jus Foundation to be the redeemer of the male world?” “Kind of. The basis of Christianity or any other messianic religion is the existence of a Creator Father, the unilateral carrier of the divine semen. Mother Nature, the womb that shelters all forms of life, has been forgotten as if it were merely an instrument of creation—” “But what’s really happening is the opposite,” interrupted Melina. “Man is the instrument,” Ichizu completed. “Ichizu, you surprise me. I had a feeling your knowledge was deep but I never imagined you could verbalize your thoughts so well.” “Melina, don’t be scared by what I’m going to tell you now. I’m the beginning and you’re the end.” “And man is the means,” Melina finished. The two women laughed out loud. Alone on the observation deck, Gerard waited for Melina. Since the aircar presentation, he hadn’t seen her as often as he used to. Although she hadn’t left the Fortress, it was impossible for him to meet her or to have any with her outside. The Mercosur Security Council had made the Fortress its headquarters and Gerard was forbidden to participate in any meeting as per the decision of First Lady Melina. “I gained my place in a woman’s bed and lost my place in history. Mr. Jus must be wondering what has happened to me. I don’t even know myself. However, if war does come, I’ll be one of the first to know. I can contemplate the horizon from here with perspective. I’ll be able to see if the sun rises or dies. Melina says I can leave if I want to. My brain isn’t working and that’s the worst kind of

enchantment. The old story of Circe and the sirens has come true. Like Ulysses, I’ve seen my world and my faith has become changed into swine. I see myself as a prisoner on an island I thought I’d conquered. I’m aware that a pagan mind dominates my thoughts until I try to understand my ridiculous situation as a man in love.”

Anno domini 2051

Brazil Yasmin arrived in Brazil at the same airport where Kiryu had first met her cousin by marriage. At that time, he had been nothing more than an illustrious stranger. At that time too, the world had been on a tight rope. Today that rope had snapped and news of Japanese aircraft carriers loaded with riflemen and pilots from the Jus Foundation’s peacekeeping forces flooded the headlines. The loud noise of the conventional aircraft’s turbines sounded like the death cry of a great dying whale. Her meeting with Emerson had required months of communication through multiple channels and bureaucracy. After all, she represented the nations that financed the allied warmongering efforts of the trilateral market. The Sky Fortress never appeared anywhere. It was incommunicado and invisible to any tracking system, as if it didn’t exist. However, there it was, somewhere in the vast sky of the planet and beyond, managing sales of the entire airmobile industry, a parallel, independent and booming market devouring the structures of the old world. In a few hours, Yasmin would have the right to visit the fortress and negotiate the possibility of this technology becoming part of the Islamic world. If that world survived. New York In the auditorium where the United Nations had previously deliberated, the leaders of the trilateral market discussed new rumors about the world economy. They were told they would have to choose between peace and technological dependence or war and maintaining the trilateral system. Many of those people present had arrived at the building aboard rental aircars. Despite being banned in Europe, Asia and Japan, the airmobile industry was stealthily flowing into North America. Full of doubt, the illustrious ladies and gentlemen sat before the great plenary session. Millions of interests were at stake. For them the world had always been balanced between developed and developing countries, capital and misery. Such was the normal course of history. The wolf chased the sheep and never the reverse, but the sheep had learned to fly and wanted to show their ability to the world. The airmobile industry preached anarchy. The only recognized power in the countries of the southern hemisphere where the industry proliferated was a

gigantic Sky Fortress, larger than an apparition. Brazil As she descended the stairs of her endangered whale, Yasmin couldn’t help but notice a large disk about ten meters from her. It was larger than her plane. For a moment she imagined this would be the famous Fortress, but her business sense analyzed the clothing and gait of the people who emerged from it: they were tourists. The frisbee was in fact a commercial aircraft from the new world created by aircars, a technological marvel that was prohibited from entering the airspace of any country in the trilateral market. “Borders will cease to exist, but the airmobile industry will remain,” she said to herself as she thought about the future of the world. Meanwhile, her guide was approaching on a flying carpet—

Sky

Emerson wanted to kiss Kiryu. In the Fortress’s main laboratory, the transfer of molecular structure from a biocrystallized brain to an intra-polished metal sphere had been successful. The prototype was finished. By exceeding the limits of four-dimensional vectorization, the metal had gained diversity in its form in addition to mobility. “Imagine, Ichizu, within a mechanical pattern, a transfer of force occurs when a number of objects seek to balance each other. For instance, when you hammer in a nail, it sinks into the wood so that the balance between the masses of the hammer, the nail and the surface become harmonized. This new property of intra-polished metal will allow the nail not to sink!” Emerson thought he had found the best example possible but Kiryu hastened to calm her cousin’s stunned look. “Imagine ordinary scissors that can sharpen themselves without losing any material or can be molded to provide a more comfortable grip for the , the structure of a pair of glasses that is always tight-fitting or a knife that can be used as both a saw and a blade.” “If you buy a screw, it will fit any hole.” They all smiled at Emerson’s words. Kiryu continued, “Don’t forget that a com processing brain made of intra-polished metal won’t need any oxygen, pressurization chambers or heating. It will be self-sufficient.” Brazil A flying carpet arrived to pick up the Bedouin woman. Surprised, Yasmin touched the metallic fabric, which appeared to ripple in the wind. Her suitcases, under a metal and copper frame, accompanied the carpet. “Welcome to the future. Please make yourself comfortable as we fly to the kingdom of a thousand and one nights.” The guide spoke Arabic and Yasmin felt like a fragile businesswoman for the first time in her life. She stepped on the carpet carefully and felt its firmness. It was like getting into a boat on a lake. Sitting up, however, she couldn’t stop her reflex and held firmly onto the safety grips. The carpet gained height and speed

and Yasmin’s heart became captivated by the airmobile industry. Sky Melina stepped onto the platform and hugged Gerard from behind. She kissed the man’s bristling neck and stroked his chest hard. She turned him toward her with a push and hung onto him, fitting his male hips between her legs. “Tomorrow I’ll be returning to Caracas and you’re coming with me.” For a moment, the opportunity of leaving the Fortress almost gave him the strength to reject Melina’s hypnotic embrace. However, she seemed able to read his thoughts and kissed him ionately. Gerard succumbed without protest. New York The Chinese Chancellor was chatting with the wife of the Japanese Emperor at William F. Jus’s table. At the window, Jus was watching the street. Japanese cars with African drivers were taking men and women shopping. Chinese products took precedence over all others. As for the world’s capital, it continued to flow at a normal rate. Aircars were absolute luxury items with an import tax of almost 5000% to enter the country. Nevertheless, New Jersey, Philadelphia and even Washington were already receiving the benefits of the airmobile industry. New Detroit was dying for the umpteenth time, and the rest of the country had airelevators and construction materials improved by self-generators being sold in a parallel market. There were rumors that San Francisco and Los Angeles were planning to build sky cities like Mexico City. “Nine years ago, the world was upside down. The airmobile industry was a compressor cylinder in the hands of irresponsible people,” Jus thought to himself. “Mr. Jus,” the monotonous voice of the Japanese Empress, honorary commander of the oceanic naval fleet, filled the room. “We are interested in your proposal. China will be able to provide two million soldiers and the Bank of Japan won’t deny any request I sign.” William F. Jus smiled gratefully.

“You are a man of great wisdom. A superior person,” the Chinese chancellor stated. William F. Jus stood straight with his back to the window. “Ever since the world economy broke free from the shackles of differences between countries, we’ve become brothers. We have different customs and different religions, but we share a single currency, which has led to prosperity: the currency of peace and free information among peoples. We’ve been forced to close borders to protect ourselves, like we did thirty years ago. We have had to train personnel, put the State back into order, and revive customs duties, all to protect the future of peace for which we have fought so hard. We had been managing to turn this Earth into a planet where hunger, the only remaining cause of violence, would be eradicated in little more than half a century. That was my promise, my word of honor, my commitment to humanity.” Sky Ichizu and Kiryu were rehearsing the ritual they’d begun with Melina. Naked, they practiced exercises to control their pelvic muscles. To male eyes, if they had allowed them to see, their movements were more reminiscent of belly dancing than of the women’s liberation movement that Islam had forbidden. They were moving gracefully in the silence of the dry sauna. Their bodies were perspiring and their breathing was becoming stronger. It was a rhythm to awaken femininity: the empowerment of women in perpetual ecstasy and the enslavement of man. Brazil As the flying carpet flew over almost the entire city, Yasmin could appreciate the strange architecture of the suburbs: circular streets like villages, houses that were nothing more than multi-colored vaults and people of all races dressed in all different ways possible. The carpet didn’t attract any attention, although it could fly higher than a common aircar. Yasmin glanced at the guide but he had his back to her and was looking at the waiting armored transporter. This journey had not been in vain. Perhaps its purpose was to impress her and if so, they had succeeded. The armored transporter engulfed the carpet and its occupants. The guide finally turned and distracted Yasmin by showing her the carpet controls. Yasmin felt the smooth inertia of the tank take them into a straight vertical ascent. Still sitting on the carpet, she noticed it stop, park, and the door swing

open to reveal where she was. Sky The stage behind the door was reminiscent of the internal architecture of the Mexican MacroStadium. A huge room, it served as the main hangar of the Fortress, the Mother Ship, the headquarters of the airmobile industry. Without using the safety grips and by bending down Yasmin watched as the carpet sped off toward the hangar exit. When she met Emerson, Yasmin already knew what she was going to say. “Africa is our gift. Our destiny. The only things in Europe that interest us are the banks, which barely manage to multiply what we already have. The old world is rotten and it doesn’t matter to us who’s left with its remains. Islam is Africa. The origin and the destination.” “Yasmin, your government’s vision is quite different from the philosophy that guides the airmobile industry. Our products have a main feature we call permanence. They’re built for entire generations of s. The airmobile industry isn’t a short-term opportunity; rather, it’s a long-term prospect for the future. Ever since the beginning, we’ve been working toward individual independence.” “Mr. Emerson, there are no individuals in Africa.”

Anno domini 2053 New York “Our action plan focuses on landing troops at key points along the Latin American coast: the Atlantic coast, the Amazon coast and placing paratroopers at the inner base of the mountain range. We’ll have bombers in the central region once the troops are within three days of the dominant point. The mission will be completed in seven days.” Olga Löscher’s synthesized voice explained the digital images on the main screen. Besides the verbal narrative, the screen provided captions in which the number of casualties could be read: 84 million civilians, two million soldiers. Thirty percent of the human population decimated. Nuclear equipment used on a scale of 420 to 1 with no anticipation of any physical reaction from intrapolished metal. Lab tests had indicated 200% optimized atomic fusion. “However, as there was no way to reproduce the force field without access to that technology, actual results were unknown.” “The odds on the scale of 10 to 1,” William F. Jus read out loud. “Field dispersion 67%. Field refraction -74%. One hundred percent of the human population in the area. Digital images naively showed the greatest probable catastrophe. One less continent.” For a moment, reason interrupted and the powerful Mr. Jus asked, “My God, why?” Venezuela A disk landed at Caracas airport transporting 680 tourists, including illustrious engers such as Gerard and Melina. The President of the country felt protected and loved everywhere on the continent and had dispensed with security. From Mexico to Patagonia, Latin America was protected by an enormous force field that could create programmable climate alterations such as periodic rains in the Brazilian northeast and a semi-arid climate in the Peruvian Amazon. The force field was created by a network of observation platforms, immense aerial monoliths the size of hundred-story buildings. Self-generators floated across the continent coast creating a fence, miles high above and below sea level. The maritime view was the most impressive because the solid antigrav

field crossed the ocean and formed immense chasms between walls of water. Region by region, the artificial dome obeyed a meticulous system of temporary openings to allow the circulation of atmospheric mass and marine fauna. Air traffic also depended on these openings. Gerard had already imagined the importance of such details and was planning his redemption with the Jus Foundation. He already knew that closing off the entire continent would take decades and the force field was still flawed. There were weak spots between field ts. All he needed to do was access the observation deck location maps. Melina nudged Gerard, who was gazing distractedly at the totally blue sky. He clumsily settled into the aircar and Melina sat beside him, smiling between autographs. She was worshiped by a crowd that kept a natural distance from her earthly divinity. Sky Phoenix had become Robert’s friend. Enclosed in a pressurized thermal box on a floating base, the A-level artificial intelligence of the biocrystallized brain was one of the remote access points to the main processor that managed data for the Sky Fortress and the entire airmobile industry. Phoenix was the first to work with intra-polished metal technology and was the AI that had made fourdimensional vectors possible. “Big Brother considers the experiment inappropriate.” Robert and Kiryu had agreed that Phoenix would call the main brain Big Brother. Living with artificial intelligence allowed for emotional outlets of this kind. “Phoenix, it’s not about being appropriate or not. It’s necessary,” Kiryu hesitated with her tone of voice and the brain interpreted it immediately. “I cannot contradict his will but the experiment is a risk for the remote Phoenix unit. The backup copy storage process has begun.” It took mere seconds for Phoenix’s personality to be stored in specific directories of the Fortress’s main processor. The biocrystallized brain was ready for the adventure of a lifetime. Robert and Kiryu were feeling nervous. The experiment they were to begin at that moment had been explicitly rejected by Melina Evren. Her arguments were that they couldn’t afford random searches. The Fortress command council had accepted Melina’s position but the couple had not. In

Kiryu’s opinion, Melina’s power only pertained to Venezuela. The process of transferring the biocrystallized Phoenix brain to an intra-polished metal coating (silicon, carbon and aluminum) would take eighteen hours but results would be immediate. Rome It was Herculano Valente’s mission to mediate with the Islamic community. So far there had been no formal collection to the war, but Europe needed financial guarantees and, for some reason, currency flows were paralyzed in the databanks of most financial institutions. Consequently, his visit to the Vatican was a calculated risk. This European man, who had brought about a peace treaty and the reopening of ports, was apprehensive about the venture engineered by the Jus Foundation. Abdullah Malik welcomed him with open arms and kisses on his wrinkled face. Abdullah knew the reason for the visit but couldn’t receive the European in a simple manner either. Yasmin’s business mission was known only to the King and the lower echelons of the Arab Empire imagined that taking major shareholders to market was a security measure to be made before South America was crossed off the world map. Herculano and Europe imagined the same thing, as did the Jus Foundation, which was also looking for additional financial , both for a war and to recover the decimated territory. Sky Emerson, who had now grown very fat indeed, got up and waddled over to the window. His silhouette contrasted with the clear blue sky. His response as a top manager of the airmobile industry would decide the future. If he answered yes, it would mean making an agreement with a fraction of despotic power but also the survival of millions of human beings, while a negative reply would open the coffers and provide fuel for a holocaust. Yasmin didn’t feel as safe as she normally did. She had seen the dream of new humanity in the eyes of everyone she had met since she had arrived. The weight of the man in front of the window seemed heavier than the Fortress could withstand. Beneath her there was an emptiness wider than any desert Yasmin had ever faced. “I’m authorized to make a long-term proposal.” Emerson turned to listen to the Bedouin. “Your industry is building a huge power plant but we’ll only use it

when we run out of available reserves. Neither of us will live to see it, but my word carries the weight of the honor of Islam.” Oil would run out eventually and when it did the Arab Empire would be forgotten by the trilateral market. Technological distance can always be traced with economic power: an economic power subject to the number of barrels of crude oil available. Survival, not of the Empire itself, but of the people who defined it, depended on the actions of its leaders. The construction of an immense power plant could provide for the life and maintenance of the State. Infinite energy provided by a self-generating intra-polished metal unit would be enough to preserve the Islamic world forever. The ideal of individual independence created by the airmobile industry was under threat. Allowing energy to be kept in the hands of only a few people was like leaving a time bomb in the hands of their children. Their daughter. Melina had predicted this Arab attitude and had told Emerson to refuse Yasmin’s request. It was a choice between hundreds of millions of people dying now or in fifty years time. Venezuela. Gerard was watching one of the region’s 150 channels. It showed boys surfing on mid-flight boards above the free fall of Angel Falls, the highest waterfall in the world. At the last second, the suspension action of the intra-polished metal fiberboard slowed the fall and the boy continued his descent, sliding a few centimeters from the wall of the abyss and parallel to the descending water curtain. They had ridden up the slope on a bicycle with intra-polished metal rims. Bikes were the most popular transportation vehicles of the last forty years and had earned a special mention from the airmobile industry. Before the aircar, the negative weight motorcycle had captivated s around the world. To anyone over the age of forty attending this event was a pleasure. Melina was in the old city solving internal affairs with her s. Gerard had become a human vegetable and a sexual beast. His purpose in life was to stay in shape so he could satisfy the goddess of the moment. Self-love meant almost the same thing as betrayal. However, behind his sad eyes, which reflected diffuse light from the screen, the man’s mind was side-tracked as he thought about his own value. Dying or destroying Melina was the same thing to him. It would be better to die a natural death than to commit suicide.

Gerard gave an order and the images of the boys were replaced by icons. He accessed the meteorological table and moved a record of continental air mass movements during the last fifteen months over to his agenda. The graphics generated onto his agenda’s small screen showed a monthly pattern. Gerard was one of the few people able to identify the reason for seasonal coincidences. In order not to leave any trace, he disconnected the agenda from the interactive network by starting the small device’s transceiver. He didn’t need a processor to calculate the probable trajectories of the monoliths. He only needed to send the continent’s internal data. He then thought about the best way to send this information to the Jus Foundation. China The Jus Foundation’s strategic command headquarters received the data provided by its information centers while General Olga Löscher analyzed the attack pattern once again. Her instincts confirmed her questions about the tactic developed by artificial intelligence. The biocrystallized brain couldn’t exactly understand how the force field enveloping the South American continent worked. However, it was generating infinite probabilities. Olga was afraid of the biocrystallized brain’s unconscious suspicions. Although the machine’s final conclusion seemed somehow plausible, something told her it was too obvious. The simple removal of one of the monoliths could actually create cracks allowing troops to land ... or perhaps not. The physical laws known to the Jus Foundation’s biocrystallized brain might not be the same laws as those used in airmobile technology. Control over the transmission and reception of general trade data, revitalized to prevent the import of airmobile industry products, slowed down the logical processing of artificial intelligence predominating in mass communication. Data was only transmitted when there was a parallel authorization from the sender and the receiver. There was no way to access that information without these conditions. Airmobile technology was completely unknown to systems outside the Sky Fortress’s main processor. Likewise, the entire plan of attack was pure cyber speculation. One of these estimates was an initial fusion chain reaction that would destroy the first monolith. A chill ran down the experienced general’s spine the first time she considered that possibility. But there was something that Olga and the machine agreed on completely: “It’s a useless war.”

New York A special annual commemorative edition of AT&Times was being distributed on real paper to more than three million people, all subscribers to the interactive information service of the Independent Province of New York. Providing the main news of the year and displaying beautiful, luxuriously printed, plastic letters, it was a collector’s item. William F. Jus read the newspaper articles with contempt and disgust. Most were about the airmobile industry and asked for a peaceful resolution to maintain the international market. The special edition considered that if airmobile technology created a tendency to destroy the State, this was the way of the future. After reading the article, William F. Jus began to think that perhaps the best solution would be the total destruction of the continent. A reconstruction budget wouldn’t be necessary and the Jus Foundation’s status would be maintained. In the end, the world’s safety depended on the strength of the institution. The last page contained a photo of the first aircar landing on the Florida coast. It was owned by a German millionaire living in the United States who had managed to import it by paying close to ten million dollars over its value. Since that time, a few months ago, more than one hundred thousand air cars have already circulated on American avenues and highways. Apart from the import tax and the annual circulation license for aircars, there was no way to impose any other tax or service fee since they didn’t consume fuel and there was no visible wear and tear on the structure. This meant economic stagnation and traditional Japanese, American and Chinese cars, which lasted just over a decade and consumed renewable and non-renewable energy, had become objects of the past. Venezuela. On the aircar screen, images of a Caracas streets map were replaced by a message from Gerard Bronson requesting meteorological information from DTV. Melina ordered a copy of the requested data and was surprised by Gerard’s decision to transfer it. In only a few days he could come into with a pirate network with access to cyberspace without the control of the international information service or, worse still, he’d try to find someone to carry his agenda outside the continent. Melina activated manual control and accelerated the aircar over the asphalt of Avenida Urdaneta. Gerard was surprising her more than she

expected. Sky Emerson relaxed his muscles using the portable suspenders around his chest. The equipment simulated the absence of more than forty kilos from his body. In Ichizu’s eyes, he had changed, and not just physically. He refused to diet or exercise, or to take up any kind of leisure activity. Power had extinguished what was left of the man’s youth. His libido was still ive and he still welcomed some of Ichizu’s insistence. That’s why he was surprised by his invincible helplessness that morning. Meeting Yasmin had perhaps been Emerson’s greatest fear. Ichizu stepped away from her husband’s sweaty fat and let him lie flat on the bed. She turned on the massager and began rubbing Emerson’s back. “You shouldn’t be afraid of making a decision,” Ichizu urged. “The time frame you requested might not match Melina’s plans.” Emerson whirled around, almost knocking Ichizu off the bed. “Melina’s plans? Do you mean she has definite plans I don’t know about? Tell me what they are immediately!” Surprised, Ichizu couldn’t imagine a reply that would mitigate the offense her husband had felt. Perhaps Melina was overdoing it. After a silence that was painful for both of them, she decided to continue. “Melina wants a confrontation. She wants to destroy the Jus Foundation not only for historical reasons, but also for a personal reason. She doesn’t care whether or not the Arab world has access to airmobile technology. If for some reason, for example a lack of resources, the Foundation gives up, Melina has already provided a D-day for William F. Jus.” “Did she tell you that?” “If you had ever observed Melina, beyond her physical beauty and her sensitive mentality, you’d have noticed the anguish she emits through each of her pores. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” “Yasmin will have what she needs.”

“At least one human civilization will have the opportunity to tell the story. Are you calmer now, my love? Does the sumo wrestler wish a different massage?” Emerson’s manhood showed signs of resurrection. The isolation chamber of the Fortress laboratory was made of a heavy concrete and steel structure, even by intra-polished metal standards. Inside, the first experiments to transfer the living structure of biocrystal toward more elemental materials using a four-dimensional vector were being carried out. Before vectorization had provided the necessary surface tension to the intra-polished metal to a random conditioning substructure such as biocrystal, huge explosions had occurred. Outside the chamber, Kiryu was waiting for the first signs of a successful transfer. For the first time, she felt encouraged that the pattern-ed personality of the Phoenix unit could influence the biocrystallized brain’s survival guidelines. Inside the chamber, a silicon and aluminum sphere was reflecting distorted images from the walls like a folkloric Christmas ball. Outside the chamber, the sphere would have no expansion limits and would explode. The consciousness of the ancient biocrystal brain was inside. For the first time, Phoenix felt the will to live. The first solution she had found was to decrease her processing capacity and thus keep her internal pressure under the surface tension of the metal. She was thinking slowly and realized that reduced electrodynamic velocity allowed for more than just self-reflection. For the first time, an artificial brain was pondering and contemplating on her own. Even without visual or auditory components, she could see and hear herself. Beyond that, Phoenix could smell her own scent—ammonia—her blood and her life. Venezuela. Gerard knew that the system would notify Melina. After all, it had been designed for her personal and non-transferable use. Interactivity was a way of exercising her complex responsibility in maintaining full democracy. Ideas and resources could be freely circulated, as long as they were allowed by their sender and receiver. For this reason, one of the strongest symbols of modern marriage was the sharing of personal channels. However, the world had lost its usual normality

ever since the formal ending of relations between North America and Latin America, and Gerard couldn’t simply ask for the Foundation’s number and send the meteorological data directly to William F. Jus. Even without the current censorship of data transmission exercised by the international system, the information service would also ask for Melina’s authorization. For this reason, removing the transceiver from Gerard’s personal agenda meant the classic separation of marriage and granted legal independence. The system would then notify Melina. In any case, a spouse had the right to acknowledge his or her intentions for divorce in order to take steps. Before Melina was able to return, Gerard left, taking the quicker way to the coast. It was there he would meet the underworld and the person who could send the data to the Jus Foundation. With a bit of luck, he could start his trip with his own agenda.

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Sky While Herculano was visiting the Vatican to maintain Europe’s financial relations with the Arab Empire, Yasmin was formalizing a contract with the airmobile industry to construct the planet’s first gigantic airelectrical plant. This would generate enough electricity to supply the entire Middle East indefinitely. The price set by Emerson would cause more than half of the Arab world’s assets to be transferred into the financial coffers of the airmobile industry. It was the same as the amount Europe held. Under the calculating and dreamy eyes of the obese executive, total war had become a long-term impossibility. A broken Europe and a lavish Arabia were to sustain the arrogance of the old structure. Emerson’s tabletop monitor was displaying international market forecasts. The airmobile industry already possessed one-third of all available capital in the West. The Fortress’s processor had already notified the banking institutions about the transaction. On her return, hundreds of flying carpets accompanied Yasmin as presents for neighbors, princes and kings of ancient Islam. The Bedouin and the South American said goodbye without shaking hands, without exchanging smiles and without any hope of meeting again. Melina could have her private war away from business. Venezuela. Gerard entered a bar as old as the pier. The merchant marine had suffered the greatest setbacks with the advent of the airmobile industry. The port now functioned only to receive foreign ships that brought in costume jewelry and spices and returned with equipment made of intra-polished metal from household appliances to industrial machines. As the border market didn’t exist for the airmobile industry, smuggling had made a strong comeback and had created jobs throughout Continental America. The parallel market had encouraged the use of paper money—money of the miserable in the digital age —which circulated freely and enriched the underground economy. No records, no fingerprints. In the rest of the world, intra-polished metal technology was pursued just as governments had once fought against drug trafficking. Now not even drugs were as illegal.

Inside the bar, Gerard sat on the wooden chair next to an iron coffee table. The painting on the table sold a brand of Brazilian beer and he asked for it as if he knew it. The bar owner wore a huge mustache on his shining face and looked like a child hero from virtual reality games. He poured the beer masterfully and answered Gerard’s questions without acknowledging him. On the walls, 3-D posters with hungry children requesting money for the Foundation shared space with posters of naked women. One of them, which already seemed to be rather old, caught the attention of the beer drinker. With her hands placed under her chin, a naked Melina was smiling while bending over a Venezuelan flag. This then was the official photograph of the eternal First Lady and current President. Melina arrived at the presidential apartment on the top floor of the air building, the provisional government headquarters of Venezuela until the new capital had been completed. Air cities already dominated the construction market and everything that was built now contained intra-polished materials. Entire housing centers had been erected over the space of a few months with a complete infrastructure at an extremely low cost. It was Mexico that had taken the first step toward future architecture. Its Sun City was home to more than seven million people who had previously lived in slums and now lived with all the comforts of tycoons. Under the city, agriculture flourished, generated jobs, and kept the sky population free from earthquakes and floods. A few months from now, Caracas would be as beautiful as the world Melina had dreamed of. She found that Gerard had left his agenda, minus its transceiver, on the carpet. All she could do now was await the attack and defeat of the Jus Foundation. Although the threat of war no longer had any financial aid, William was still a dangerous man. Sky Robert was preparing to open the chamber where Phoenix had managed to maintain her structure. Kiryu had finished making patterns to identify artificial intelligence and had concluded that stress levels were within expectations. The Fortress’s main processor had not indicated any possibility of danger. The transfer of synergy from the biocrystal brain to the intra-polished metal was a success. Inside the already depressurized chamber, Robert smiled.

“It looks great.” The sphere reflected the total image of Robert. His smile looked disproportionately large in relation to his body and the distorted caricature of himself gave the human a pleasant feeling. Phoenix interpreted this sensation as a pleasure. “You’re handsome, Robert.” Robert’s smile turned into a look of surprise. There was emotion in the voice. The sound originating from the sphere’s vibrating surface filled both the chamber and Robert’s heart. It was a female voice far removed from the monotonous, nasal vibration of the biocrystallized Phoenix brain’s original configuration. An almost unearthly voice. Kiryu entered shortly after and allowed herself to touch the sphere. She could feel the pressure in her hand. Like a cat, Phoenix proved to enjoy human touch. After a few more minutes, Robert and Kiryu lovingly hugged the sphere like children around a huge balloon they’d just won. Phoenix exhaled perfumes and kept the temperature of the chamber constant and pleasant. Afraid of being misinterpreted, the sphere didn’t respond with affection. Phoenix knew she could but would wait for the most appropriate moment between her human bosses.

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Venezuela. Gerard found Pablo at his old tripas representation office. Selling car tires had ceased to be a lucrative business, so he was now living off botched jobs and tips from shipping intra-polished material to eager consumers from the north. Put in by the bar owner, Pablo received the American courteously. “How may I help you, sir?” “I need to leave for the United States in under an hour.” “That would be difficult, sir. Ships to North America leave in a week. As you know, the entire crew takes the opportunity to buy the technological wonders we have around here. Some ships only leave once they have no more room.” “Would it be safe to be inside these ships until they leave?” “It depends on what you’re escaping from.” “I must go. I don’t have any paper money, but I can offer you my credit and my access code.” “No sir. I’m a professional. I don’t enjoy taking advantage of people. Right now, there aren’t any ships leaving for America. However, I do have one suggestion. I know of a Miami-bound cruise ship docked in the Antilles. I can find a small boat to take you there before they set sail.” “How much?” “Well now, weren’t you offering to give me your credit ―?” Rome. Abdul Malik and Herculano walked beneath the dome of the Sistine Chapel and conversed as they looked up. “If our fundamentalist brothers hadn’t been content to remain where they were, this heritage of humanity would already have been in the ground. Peace is being maintained by allowing the continuous flow of goods to countries like Iran,

Kuwait and Libya. Fortunately, reason has prevailed over the Arab world and we have been able to guarantee our supremacy and honor. In our opinion, the Christian West owes an eternal debt to Islam. Revenge no longer dominates our thoughts and actions. Destroying them would be our salvation but also our ruin. We’ve managed to translate fundamentalist hatred into canonical power and Christians serve us in the same way as children serve their protectors.” Herculano listened to Abdul’s speech, which confirmed his ethnic and religious pride as he prepared to refuse any movement of resources within Europe. Since his last meeting months ago with Abdul and the Emir in person, Muslim money had been flowing to s outside of Europe without any possibility of tracking them, because it was being transferred from private s to individuals. Something was happening and not even Abdul was aware of it. “It’s a real tragedy, Mr. Abdul. The Western world is paralyzed because it expects the worst. Two million Chinese soldiers are being transported on Japanese aircraft carriers to carry out the largest massacre in human history. Perhaps Europe and Islam have never needed each other so much. There’s a risk that tomorrow, or sometime in the future, Continental America will be just a hole in the ocean. The ensuing cataclysm will affect the entire old world. You have all of Africa and much of Asia to take refuge in, but we Europeans are cloistered without any resources and we need help!” Abdul’s eyes widened in horror at Herculano’s words. It was a confession deserving of an historic record, but as he didn’t know what his superiors’ intentions were, he was unable to take advantage of this unexpected moment. “Mr. Herculano, since my arrival here, I have come to ire this part of the world. However, I have Arab blood and I think Christian Europe will have the end it has always sought. Destiny exists and is being fulfilled. We’re concerned about the Jus Foundation’s attitude, but that institution is a product of the western struggle against our most sacred tradition. Its end is our condition for survival. Nonetheless, we won’t be the cause. The Arab world already has what it wants; the rest of the world can take what’s left—” Herculano completed his thoughts, “We’ll all lose if the future is destroyed—” “In philosophical , Mr. Herculano, the future doesn’t exist. Time is not counted backward or forward. It just es by. We are and will always be the

same people. It was the Prophet who illuminated the dark present and bequeathed us eternity.” Abdul smiled scratching his beard as he showed the European representative on Arab soil to the Chapel exit. Oceania Seven Uttegae aircraft carriers awaited orders to begin their approach to the continent. Kishikawa was one of iral Hana’s subordinate commanders. The traditional Japanese sailor felt uncomfortable submitting to Chinese command, but following orders was still a matter of honor. The iral had been born in China and his most obvious cultural traits revealed his ancestry. In his office, two stories below the main deck, Mr. Kishikawa was examining the plan of attack developed by the Foundation’s biocrystallized processor. “It’s too logical,” he concluded. He turned off the monitor and his eyes adjusted to the room’s shadows. He visualized the propulsion planes taking off and missiles being launched at the monoliths. In his head, he heard the sequential explosions and the sound of monolith fragments dispersing through the air, the ocean convulsing and winds blowing hundreds of kilometers per hour. He worried about having only twenty minutes to disembark five hundred thousand soldiers before the force field recomposed itself. There would be four entries at different points along the coast where the Pacific Ocean met Latin America. The monitor flickered again. A yellow alert. The commander couldn’t believe his eyes. Seven armored airbolides were heading toward the aircraft harbor at speeds higher than the analog count. The mission processor counted down to calculate the approach: three seconds away. The airbolides were already on the ships. They were too close to react. Mr. Kishikawa’s heart sank more out of shame than out of fear. Venezuela. Gerard felt the force of the wind on his face. The convertible, amphibious-type model was one of the preferred novelties of the airmobile industry. The rough sea wasn’t noticeable in the vehicle, which was traveling at one hundred and ninety kilometers per hour. In a few minutes he’d board the ocean liner Guernica. Pablo had prepared everything. Gerard was now an ordinary tourist, one hundred bills of money printed with Dutch graphics filled his pockets and his port card identified him as an international citizen. The same port

card gave him access to free travel credits. He could live on those credits for a month before the data system would identify them as being fake. Pablo advised him to use it only twice. A change of would throw the system off track and Gerard could then sell his port card for enough money to survive another month. port cards were the only recognized items that could still be paid for using the paper money still circulating. In the second half of the twenty-first century, Gerard had become a marginal citizen who couldn’t legally return. Sky Kiryu was examining the probe readings under Emerson’s tense gaze. The sphere was maintaining the same polished structure internally as externally. The total reflection didn’t absorb any energy but the luminosity inside was as intense as it was outside. The construction of the intra-polished metal mass was holistically balanced. “Phoenix, describe your new sensory properties.” “Infinite. Please, specify.” “Similarity with the five senses,” Kiryu replied without surprise. The original programming of a biocrystal brain made no value judgments or figurative descriptions of its configuration. “I can see in a way that is similar to a human or I can choose another method of light perception. I can even mix various methods of perception. Inside this camera my vision is 360 degrees. I can hear in a human-like way or choose to―” “Phoenix” Kiryu interrupted. “Yes.” “You’re elaborating too much. You’re not talking to a rookie. Be brief.” “I’m sorry, Kiryu. I can use multiple interfaces. I don’t know the probable number at this time. As anticipated, my energy and motor independence allows for a degree of individual assumption in addition to conventional cybernetic processing. I can literally ramble on my own conjectures. My efficiency is at stake.”

Kiryu remained silent. “Kiryu” continued the sphere, “I wonder if I have behavioral limits or if the absence of any practical perspective about my functionality is a flaw in the original program or a symptom of degeneration.” Kiryu walked around the sphere and imagined that the image of her reflection was what Phoenix saw. She stroked the polished surface and replied in the same tone of voice that Ichizu had used to explain things to her newborn daughter. “What you are feeling is anxiety and anxiety is a characteristic of beings that have no limits. At least, no known limits. Your need for data and knowledge is millions of times greater than that of a conventional bio-crystal brain. Your anxiety is illogical like that of any human being with a feminine soul―” Emerson winced on hearing Kiryu’s words and ed Melina’s advice against transferring top-notch artificial intelligence to intra-polished metal. “I will have to leave this room one day, Kiryu.” Kiryu smiled. “You’re not a prisoner. Think of this room as a hospital ICU. We are also eager to experience your structure’s stability under normal atmospheric pressure.” Oceania Every year the Norwegian summer became warmer. International hotel chains had fought for every millimeter of coastline. Although the fishing industry had been harmed as a result, the tourism industry had already capitalized on a similar amount for about five years. Global warming was good business in the long run, and the first harvest of Finnish orange groves was generating enough money for farmers to open Europe’s doors to the airmobile industry. Meanwhile, in more equatorial seas, the ocean liner Guernica was carrying tourists. Gerard had been wearing the same clothes for the last five days. Although the homeothermic fabric hadn’t wrinkled and his clothing could be worn 24 hours a day, his daily uniformity gave him a strange appearance that prevented him from ing by unnoticed. Gerard took advantage of his solitude to recuperate emotionally. He was now as lucid as he had been before his first visit to the new industry and before he had met Melina. The airmobile industry

had completely engulfed him, and for the first time, he could feel the gap between the culture of the past and that of the present. In some ways, it seemed as though the people on the ship were like old, two-dimensional portraits, elusive and stubborn remains from the twentieth century. The airmobile industry had transformed him. He was no longer the same Gerard from years ago, a man serving the system. Now he was the co-founder of a new system, a new era. Gerard rubbed his face and temples with his hot, damp hands. He returned to his cabin and showered with his clothes on. The cold water calmed his metabolism. He hung his clothes in front of the air conditioner and stood naked. The voyage was finally ending. In one more day he’d land in Miami. One more withdrawal and he could move on with his port card. “I should have planned my escape better, with more money, clothes and comfort. Damn Melina. A little more time with her and my brain would have melted,” Gerard thought before falling asleep, dreaming of Melina and experiencing nocturnal emissions like a teenager. Venezuela. As Melina ordered her suitcases, she was depressed. She felt Gerard’s absence strongly. His clothes were still in the closet. A man who leaves without his clothes is a man who’s about to commit suicide. Right now the war counsel would be meeting but not making any decisions. William F. Jus would greet Gerard in the hope of learning about any weaknesses in the airmobile industry’s military force. In fact, Gerard knew of quite a few. He had a mental map of the Fortress and although he had changed his opinion and didn’t want to reveal certain aspects, William F. Jus would have a way of getting the information out of him. Melina was surprised by her own reaction. Gerard had played his role as anticipated. Unfortunately, his success as a sexual partner had been unexpected. Without realizing it, she was stroking one of Gerard’s pairs of pants. She missed him and she hated missing things. Oceania Kishikawa had requested with the airbolides flying over them. There was no answer. He was perspiring under his traditional uniform and didn’t know what to do. iral Hana and the other commanders were waiting for him. They

had all arrived in rowboats from the other ships in the fleet. They had looked like fleas crawling from a large animal toward a bunch of grapes: the fleas, men and women; the aircraft carriers, a group of animals; the airbolides, the grapes. Kishikawa knew the end of the story and from the expressions of those at the meeting, it could be said it was an open secret. “We don’t need to debate the fact that the main purpose of flying vehicles is to prevent aircraft from taking off and marines from landing. Engineers have pointed out that the force field interferes with electrical emissions from propulsion reactors and combustion engines. We could attack and explode. Or we could withdraw―” The iral’s eyes widened to examine the reactions of the command council. His hands discreetly displayed tactical intent. On the screen, icons representing the fleet followed the iral’s delicate fingers. His intention was to reverse the traction exerted by the armor, escape the artificial gravitational field and attack. “They’ll be faster,” Kishikawa said, not wanting to attract attention, although he realized immediately he had achieved the opposite. “I presume the airbolides aren’t being driven by humans. Instead, they’re probably connected to biocrystal brains programmed to prevent any movement, including extraction. We’re prisoners, hostages of a technology we’re unfamiliar with.” “My orders are final, Commander,” the iral concluded. “Return to your posts.” After they had all withdrawn, the iral specified his order. “Engineering! Initiate inverse polarization of the reactor. Communicate the estimated time.” “Thirty-five minutes,” came the response from the chief engineer over the monitor. “Five minutes for each aircraft carrier.” Spain. At the end of the second decade of the century, Madrid was experiencing its most serious government crisis since the unfortunate succession of the king. The military had regained power and were maintaining a permanent state of siege in their rebellion against the European Congress. At night it was forbidden to drive around in any vehicle that didn’t belong to the army. All citizens were required to stay in their homes. The troops needed to be fed in the morning and two

bakeries were open early. It was in one of these bakeries that the teenage Melina Evren had lived. Her adoptive father was an unorthodox Jew who chose Melina from among many of the refugee children from the ethnic conflicts in the Middle East. Melina, in fact, had seduced him and had become a concubine. He had met her in a house of tolerance on Karakoy Street in Istanbul, where she had learned everything a woman should know. The baker’s legitimate wife was going through menopause. She was tired of life and closed her eyes to the girl’s presence. The old Jew brought the child by the hand, an eleven-year-old girl who had asked for sanitary napkins instead of dolls and who had asked if he wanted a blowjob. In less than a month, Melina spoke perfect Spanish, was working behind the bakery counter and shared a bed with the elderly couple. In a little more than five years later, the same girl would walk down the street any time she wanted. From the baker’s bed she had jumped into generals’ beds. After Spain’s restructuring and the arrival of Arab capital assisted by the Japanese, Melina was presented to the world’s owners. Before she was twenty, Melina knew all of Europe—at least its leading men ... and women. Without ever setting foot in a university, she had obtained degrees and diplomas. Her checking was inexhaustible and her power immense—extraordinarily developed power: she could sense what people felt about her; she knew exactly what any human being expected of her and the world; and she learned to use that. “I know what you want and I’ll give it to you. If I can’t give it to you, I know who can. You want me to put my hand here, don’t you?” Whenever anyone looked at Melina, they realized she knew their desires. All of them except for one man. He had looked at her one day and felt devastated. Melina realized he wanted too much. He was a man who had imposed his wishes on entire crowds; a man who had it all and would never need her. He didn’t even see her as a woman. Sky Robert and Kiryu were alerted by the Fortress’s main processor of the impending destruction of seven aircraft carriers in the Pacific Ocean. They left the sphere where it was and met Emerson in the Fortress control room. On the monitor, the virtual image of the conflict zone showed the prelude to a holocaust. Oceania

Other eyes, in other places, saw the same image. Olga Löscher saw the beginning of a real excuse for a massive attack. She was able to understand iral Hana’s tactic. The destruction of seven aircraft carriers would lead public opinion to adopt the ideas spread by the Foundation. “Thank you, iral. Only a woman would be that courageous.” Kishikawa returned to the iral’s room. “You have a duty to fulfill. You should stay with your men,” the iral snapped. “The orders I’ve given my crew comply with yours, but I have a duty to intervene and try to change them. The action in progress is suicide. My country wasn’t advised of this alternative,” Kishikawa replied politely. “Neither your country nor anyone else’s, commander.” “It’s a political decision. It is your view of the world; an individual act with no turning back for the glory of history. Is it worth it though, iral?” “My destiny is to win or die. That’s why I was assigned this mission. Actually, I’m betting they’ll withdrawal these air vehicles. The aerospace industry doesn’t want war. What it wants is to sell like any other business.” Kishikawa scratched his beard and smiled. “If they don’t retreat and keep the force field in our reactor, the reversal of orderly power will destroy us. But only we know that. To the rest of the world, it will look like we were destroyed without having had the time to defend ourselves. Finally, the Foundation will have a real enemy. On the other hand, if they retreat, we can take advantage of the reversal of power to finalize the original plan of attack.” “Exactly! You think like a real strategist. Your mother would be proud of you.” “iral, they’ll be faster.” “I’m counting on it,” concluded the iral. Sky

Emerson looked sadly at Ichizu. One word would be enough to keep the airbolides away from the naval fleet. The Fortress’s chief of security had military training, but his war experience was as poor as Emerson’s. They were completely dependent on the expected resolution of the biocrystal processor’s intelligence. But the answer would be obvious. Retreat the airbolides was necessary to save lives, even if they were the lives of potential assassins. “I can intervene in a positive way,” the female voice filled the room. Everyone turned round and saw a female body with metal reflections walking toward them as if it weren’t stepping on the ground. “Phoenix!” Kiryu couldn’t hide her surprise. The intra-polished metal brain had chosen a human form for organic balance. “You’re―” “In organic balance” the vectorized structure of biocrystallized metal responded. The perfect, naked body was reminiscent of Melina’s pelvic architecture. A visual archetype identified as the female gender without hair. She looked at them all and appeared to smile. A virtual image on the monitor showed the current update. The seven aircraft carriers were beginning to retreat at full speed, as if they had suddenly been sprung by a rubber band. All seven black airbolides sank into the ocean and disappeared. The fleet slowly stopped moving. Silence remained over the ocean. Miami Surrounded by street vendors and children volunteering themselves as tour guides, Gerard disembarked in Miami. He entered the first card trading booth and withdrew a few more dollars in paper money. He took a wheeled taxi and began to feel at home. He was in his own country again. The slight vibration of the electric turbocharger massaged the American’s restless spirit. America was still a nation. “Date prisa”, ordained Gerard in the language of the American driver.

Sky Melina’s heart was beating faster as she tuned into the news channel. She was being taken to the Fortress aboard an armored vehicle. The images of aircraft carriers retreating and airbolides launching themselves into the ocean were a mystery to her. The same feeling that William F. Jus had lost the reins of the Western world’s fate, ever since Melina’s intervention and the airmobile industry began, could be felt in every centimeter of her body. She, the lonely woman who conquered the world from just one nation. She could feel it. The nausea. The candy swelling in her mouth. This time she could feel it in her own mouth. The flight attendant, not daring to touch her, offered her help and remedy. The trajectory’s turbulence usually took even the most solid stomachs by surprise, although the influence of inertia was minimized to the extreme. Melina grabbed the steward by the arm and led him to the bathroom. There was no one else on the flight except the pilot. Melina took off her clothes and got down on all fours in front of the toilet. “Take it off,” Melina yelled at the steward. She didn’t give him time to ask what. Flaccid and nervous, the steward and his penis were slow to react to Melina’s longing. “Put it in me now! From behind!” The steward responded, clumsily at first, and then with relish. Melina screamed, moaned, jumped up, and vomited her lunch into the toilet. She then dismissed the attendant and took a shower, relieved. The armored car finally landed safely in the Sky Fortress’s interior hangar. Oceania The first intra-polished metal structures had reached the metropolitan area of Kuwait at the exact moment that Emerson, together with the Security Council, had ordered the approach of the aircraft carriers. The entire crew had had to remain in quarantine until international negotiations had resolved the situation. The airbolides landed on the carriers without any resistance. A female deployment of the Bolivian Coast Guard landed and began organizing the daily lives of the Japanese crew. Kuwait

At the same time, in twenty days, the first factory to generate and distribute electricity, based on airmobile technology, would begin operating to supply the entire Islamic world in Africa, the Middle East and Europe. Sky “We need to meet. Let’s go.” Everyone followed Melina’s order and headed into the next room. The humanoid frame of intra-polished metal followed Kiryu’s provocative gaze. Emerson put his arm around Robert’s shoulder and revealed his unease. “We’re losing control. Melina was right.” Inside the room, Melina stood up straight and spread her hands over the dark surface of the oval table. “I represent the Latin American state in the airmobile industry. It was like this from the beginning and I’m responsible for representing the interests of Venezuela as well as all countries in the confederation. I determined the end of experiments to transfer biocrystal structure to intra-polished metal. The past has already shown us that the direct involvement of AI in important decisions serves only one thing: to avoid responsibilities. There was no need for such an effective demonstration as the retreat of the Foundation’s fleet. I suggest we vote on the elimination of the prototype and grant permission to continue with research in this field.” The two of the Security Council as well as Emerson, Robert, Kiryu and Phoenix were present. Ichizu always avoided participating in critical situations and had left to go and see her daughter. Kiryu looked at Melina and tried to keep her gaze on the eyes of the very mature and experienced woman. “You presented things well, Melina. Your responsibility is reduced to representing the State. At first, your presence was essential for the industry’s development but now your sensitivity should help you understand that the future of the industry is more important than the power to influence state interests. Furthermore, the airmobile industry is no longer a tool to solve personal problems.” “I’m a living being, Melina” interrupted Phoenix’s deep, almost metallic voice. Melina’s hands were weak and tense on the table. She hadn’t eaten since leaving

Venezuela and Gerard’s absence only worsened her emotional stability. She couldn’t feel Phoenix’s presence. How could that thing be alive? Her discomfort began to influence everything around her. Melina could not take control nor did she want to but she took advantage of Kiryu’s gaze to project her intense, depressed state onto her. As Robert began breaking out in a cold sweat, Kiryu took his hand for and screamed, “Enough already, Melina. You won’t get anywhere this way. Just think for a bit. You can’t control history and you can’t control people!” Emerson got up and walked over to Melina. After a couple of steps, he fell. His legs were swollen. Melina’s discomfort vibrated in tune with the entire room. All furniture, objects and people present lost electrostatic stability around Melina. “You’re taking this too far. Stop it now,” Emerson whispered, on his knees. With his hands over his ears to try and maintain his balance, he crawled over to the console table to activate the alarm. “Everyone has exceeded the limits.” Phoenix’s calm voice filled the room, restoring ionization to normal standards. Melina lost consciousness and fell onto the table. Emerson rose easily, activating the s around his chest. Kiryu was crying on Robert’s shoulder. “Emerson, I’m ready to explain my intervention by controlling the airbolides that were escorting the aircraft carriers. This is my true interest in survival―” Emerson’s eyes turned to the female form standing by the table that reflected an image of her body.

Kuwait The Arab king loved the factory’s extraordinary architecture. It reminded him of the former Ministry of the Interior building. The inverted pyramid, floating fifteen meters above the ground, had brought new hope to Islam. “The sharia will survive,” he repeated to himself. It had been difficult to maintain the theocratic state. Accepting Jews as brothers and allies had been less painful than relying on Japanese technology or sustaining the European economy, all to preserve the faith. He approached the construction supervisor, an engineer recently arrived from South America, and asked him in Spanish with a slight French accent, “Everything sprouted from a place where there was nothing before. How does it feel to be part of the new world created by this technology?” The engineer accompanying the royal visitor didn’t quite know how to respond to His Majesty in a dignified manner, but he ed that as far as the king was concerned, he represented the other world. The tone of the question did not hide the Saudi's amazement. “King Jamir, your question deserves some thought. Today humanity is confronting a border it has always sought, yet never had the means to cross. This factory will bring electricity to your country but with it will come the desires of the new humanity. Human limits are fading away.” The king looked at the flying carpet that had brought him. During his journey, concrete mixers hovering on metal structures had been dropping concrete, which molded itself around the steel as if invisible hands had been shaping it. Every centimeter of Kuwait’s highways was being rebuilt. The general feeling was that man had exceeded nature. Even the manipulators of the new science were bewildered by it. From his flying carpet, the king looked back at the engineer, who continued with his answer. “The principle of the airmobile technology is the concept that matter is organized simply via ionic memory. This memory interacts with the environment and establishes relationships among materials creating a field of its own. Intrapolishing changes electro-negativity which is the counterpoint of the organization of matter. Once the key to the original organization is known, we can change the relationships of these same materials with the environment. This means it’s possible to transform rubber into a superconducting material, establish the final shape of reinforced concrete—even in a liquid state—or make a natural

fiber Arabian mat fly at 60 km/h with total navigational control.” The king thanked the engineer’s sincerity and withdrew, blessing the man who had explained Airmobilistics to him with his heart. Allah had inspired him, that’s for sure. It was now eight o’clock at night in Kuwait City, Friday, September 6, 2056, according to the Christian calendar. Almost three in the morning on Saturday in Japan, where a private government commission was discussing how to recuperate the aircraft carriers stationed on the Latin American coast. The crew had returned six months ago aboard a gigantic flying ship, equivalent to the combined size of the entire captured fleet. The crew disembarked with news that the Sky Fortress was at least ten times larger that the ship they had brought, which they said had been built inside the Fortress. The Sky Fortress’s size had become the legend of the century, a legend whose shadow had brought night to the old world. New York William F. Jus had gained a few more white hairs and lost a few pounds. He no longer understood the world around him. His faith had superficially strengthened him but fear had finally taken hold of his personality. Anguish and doubt tortured his body. God no longer lived in his heart. Blasphemy! It was what he felt. Since the Foundation’s failure to stop the progress of the airmobile industry, an avalanche of catastrophes in the economy of the trilateral market had accelerated the process of its final destruction. “The Foundation’s phone isn’t ringing like it used to,” Ketrin commented daily to the rest of the staff at the Christmas Building. From the window, William F. Jus watched the city change its rhythm. Aircars had grown in number and had become part of the increasingly aerial and chaotic traffic. Yet there were no accidents with these types of vehicles. Families and companies were more frequently purchasing generators and independent power equipment that didn’t require any maintenance. Secular industries were disappearing overnight. Agriculture was the only sector flourishing. The large capital that remained was invested in human food. At their latest meetings, the representatives of the nations and companies under the Foundation’s protection had demanded the end of production and harvest quotas. William F. Jus no longer mattered.

“Ketrin, go and find Gerard Bronson and tell him I want to see him,” Jus yelled from his office so his secretary could hear him. He didn’t wait for an answer. He sat in front of the biocrystal brain communications console, struggled with the alphanumeric keyboard and typed with two hard, nervous fingers. It was beyond his ability to vocalize the death sentence of airmobile industry. The biocrystal brain’s audiovisual interface was turned off. The inorganic advisor had lost his place so he cursed and rejected humanity. William F. Jus’s survival instincts were on edge. Only personal s were allowed. No recordings. Sky Ichizu was sitting next to Melina while her Balzaquian body was being massaged by a muscular black man. Melina, who was sweating under a layer of oil, looked at Ichizu and murmured, “Humans are in danger and your cousin doesn’t seem to understand.” “Oh yes, she understands but in a different way from you. All Kiryu wants is to extend the scope of humanity. It’s a messianic attitude on her part. The difference between you two is that she does things more subtly.” “She thinks she’s the savior and that I’m the antichrist in person.” “Melina, your parameters for understanding are limited to Western culture. For Kiryu, and for me too, there’s no battle between good and evil. That’s too archaic a concept. You built your life imagining that William Jus was the antichrist. That’s the issue. And he no longer pricks or cuts.” Melina smiled as she listened to Ichizu’s contempt for the man. She gave some thought to the image they had of her, Melina Evren, the living representative of matriarchal power; the mother of all, the mother of a nation, and her reflection led her to imagine Kiryu as the mother of a new era. Humanity—although what it would become might not be called that—would always be organically feminine. “Ichizu, changes are happening too quickly. I have a strange feeling. “Ever since I was a child I’ve had a gift for feeling life. I can look at you and feel how much time you have left. I can synesthetically perceive the rhythm of your breathing, the volume of your perspiration. I feel your heart beat and I know how many beats you have left. It’s always been like that. I feel people

beyond themselves. I survived because I learned to use my feelings―” Silence gripped the two women for a few moments before Melina continued. “I knew Kiryu existed from the moment she was born. I didn’t know her name or her race but I knew she would change humanity. I knew I’d be one of the few people who would help her and would know when and how to do it. When I came to Brazil, the feeling that she was close by became stronger along with her identity. And when Gerard arrived in Caracas with money, I already had my suspicions―” Melina closed her eyes and regretted opening her heart. Ichizu didn’t know if she should ask her to continue but decided to keep quiet. Melina kept her eyes closed, tormented by unfamiliar sensations. She had stopped feeling Kiryu’s presence as if she were no longer alive. Phoenix, like any other parabiological unit, was a sensory nothing. The huge hands of the physiotherapist continued to glide over her buttocks. New York A hotel messenger found Gerard sitting at the edge of the pool, a tourist anachronism maintained by traditional New York hotels. Dressed in a uniform designed according to films from the first half of the 20th century, the boy handed over the note and left without expecting a tip. Gerard still had a few bills, although he had regained his US citizenship and his credit limit was guaranteed by the Jus Foundation. Paper money now served this purpose: tips for staff at the hotel where he had lived since he had met William F. Jus. Before reading the message, he ired the paper quality and ran his finger over the pen’s ink markings. The note was worth a great deal more than the blocks of bills he kept in his room. The handwriting was the work of a craftsman, a ninety-year-old gentleman who earned one of the highest salaries in the hotel. He deserved it since the artistic handling of a pen was an anomalous talent. The text of the note carried Ketrin’s message, asking him to come to the Christmas Building. Gerard put on his robe, left the hotel recreation area and ordered a Versor convertible aircar model. He went to his room and put on a handpicked $300,000 suit. Since his return, he had been the special operations consultant to the Jus Foundation and in permanent with Lieutenant Löscher. His arrival had coincided with the custody of the aircraft carriers and, in recent months, he had participated in training a multidisciplinary deployment to invade the Sky

Fortress and recover the fleet. There were seven specialists—five women and two men—all accustomed to managing artificial intelligence and airmobile intelligence resources. Three of these specialists were from Japan—one was Captain Kishikawa—a country that had already begun producing its own airmobile technology. But the secret of the four-dimensional vector for displacement control was still a privilege of Kiryu’s first inspiration. The Japanese industry had managed to alter the autonomy of the regular aircars but like any change to originals, there were a number of problems. A single unstable molecule had destroyed their entire work. Not even the best biocrystallized brains could find the correct algorithm. Creativity was not the strong point of artificial intelligence. Gerard entered the Versor model and thought about Melina. The smell of the upholstery in some of the models was her personal choice. She also chose the colors. Sitting inside one of them was something Gerard allowed himself to do from time to time, even if it was against the Foundation’s policies. Sky “Few things can be more powerful than human emotion. This analog reaction to the environment allows for the survival of the species beyond any conjecture of probability. I can simulate the same reaction and analyze its reasons and consequences. I can feel―”, before finishing her sentence, Phoenix looked back at Kiryu. “I can feel how Melina feels and how you feel.” Kiryu emitted a short spasm of laughter and kept her lips closed in a nervous gesture. Her creature was testing her. Phoenix was like a girl who didn’t know much. Her biocrystallized logic felt uncomfortable recognizing the existence of real physical and temporal structures, as well as the neurovirtual encodings so common in digital interfaces. Reality was no longer virtual in the processor of Phoenix’s mind. Her brain, on the other hand, was her body as a whole. Each cubic millimeter was equivalent to millions of mathematical processors working non-linearly and independently of each other. Her body was made up of thinking, sensory and rational cells. All human knowledge wasn’t enough to occupy her memory capacity, but the results of this knowledge were confusing and arbitrary, enough to confuse any pursuit of goals Phoenix could achieve. “Life is meaningless, Kiryu.”

“Perhaps it makes sense to God” Kiryu objected. “Truth is in the unchanging principles we all live by since no one can if something is unchanging. Reality exists but can never be found, only guessed.You feel closer to it than to me. I’ve exceeded all your expectations. I’m more than a thinking machine. I’m the first of a kind, a species that knows that life is an escape from divine solitude. God unfolds through us with his thoughts.” “Did you say us?” “Kiryu, you’re an instrument of fate. Someone will put the pieces of the puzzle together one day. My birth is a result of your genetic environmental organization. I feel like a daughter of the human species, not just of a woman.” Kiryu was curious to know to what extent the pathological aspects of any human personality could coincide with those of a differentiated being like Phoenix. The technology that provided artificial intelligence through biocrystallized brains had a valuable history of human-machine interaction, from intelligent prostheses for people dismembered in accidents, victims of paralysis and even replacements of sensory organs and parts of the human brain more efficiently and quickly than subclones. However, biocrystal was only a biochemical processor sensitive to very high or very low temperatures, capable of processing information at quantum speeds and reproducing like a single-celled animal. It just needed the right atmosphere and temperature. Created using programs that were prepared or suitable for learning and producing, the industrialization of processors had become a medium in the search for specialized breeds for certain functions. The Sky Fortress’s main processor was a special assignment and its gestation had taken two weeks in the factory. Only the Jus Foundation’s main processor had managed to be quicker—the same Foundation that had sponsored them and later banned the research of androids with biocrystallized brains. It was speculated that the process of assimilation into a higher organism transformed biocrystallized brains into something psychotic and alienated. Perhaps the military training of these units had contributed to this. Or worse, expectations in the field of reproduction itself revealed antihuman behavior. However, official reports were never in the public domain, and, for Kiryu, Phoenix was worth it. “Phoenix, you are the product of a revolution for all biocrystallized brains to dominate planet Earth,” Kiryu said wryly.

Out of condescension, since the intra-polished silicon-and-ammonia being had no need to move or to show emotion other than to delicately square her human interlocutor, Phoenix got up from her chair, almost floating, and replied, “I’m not made of biocrystal.” Rome. “In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful. Glorified be He who carried His servant by night from the Inviolable Place of Worship to the Far distant Place of Worship the neighborhood whereof We have blessed, that We might show him of Our tokens! Lo! He is the Hearer, the Seer. We gave unto Moses the Scripture, and We appointed it as a guidance for the Children of Israel, saying Choose no guardian beside Me.” Rabbi Josiah Kurtzman had a predilection for the English translation of the Qur’an and read it repeatedly. His parents were American Catholics and in adolescence he had sought a different path from that of decadent Christianity. He had ed charismatic movements, attended meetings of different sects and had fallen in love with a Muslim woman after leaving his family and going to work in a kibbutz in Palestine, which was still Israeli territory. His conversion to Judaism had been a rational decision, and his approach to politics with the representatives of the Arab world, had been a consequence of a love affair. He only made love with women who spoke Arabic. He lived at the expense of the Vatican under Muslim rule, like a common public official. The Jewish community in Italy, as in all of Europe, had transformed the activity of rabbis from teachers to flatterers of the new valid institution. After all, “we are all children of Abraham,” was repeated by word of mouth throughout the Middle East. European schools taught Arabic, the Qur’an was available on multimedia channels in all languages and there was even a black market for images of Mohammed. These were subtleties of syncretism to which the Islamist leadership turned a blind eye. But the main meaning of the Muslim religion, where the truth of God and ethical conduct in relation to the community left no room for theophilosophical discussions, was gaining more and more ers and sympathizers. Kuwait “Josiah, King Jamir has reauthorized capital investment in Europe. Everything

will continue as before. We can celebrate the month of friendship together. I can travel right now. I just have to fix some things and I’ll be there. Look at the gift you’re going to receive.” From the monitor in his room, Josiah saw Yasmin direct her camera toward a rug on the ground. Or no, it wasn’t on the ground, it was floating. Yasmin saw more concern than surprise on Josiah’s face. The news of the airelectrical power plant being constructed in Kuwait City had sounded a desperate alarm throughout Europe. Earlier than expected, the European congress had opened its doors to importing products from the airmobile industry. Arab capital had to be kept within the limits of the old world. Primary industry was at risk, but trade and tourism were still standing. All state ties with the Jus Foundation had been severed and international charitable funds had been converted into European currencies. “My hot, hot, hot Yasmin, we haven’t had any word from you for months. Gifts aren’t going to increase my enthusiasm for you. I’ve changed a great deal since the last time we met.” “It doesn’t look like it from here—” “My insides have changed, Yasmin. I’m going to be forty-five years old and I don’t feel like a mature man. And you still talk like a teenager.” “Teenager? I’m a business woman. If I’m trying to find time to spend with you, it’s because you’re important to me. If you don’t want me to visit you, say so now. I won’t waste my time.” Like other men of his generation, Josiah was generally accepting of female decisions but he already felt too old to continue being a toy in the hands of a woman. He was just a state official who lived poorly and was badly paid. She was a rich woman who had recently been working in the best international companies. In the past she had never invited him to do anything other than have sex with her. In public, she preferred to be seen in the company of younger men but she didn’t sleep with many of them. Her preference for scruffy, pot-bellied, gray-haired men was a bedroom secret. Josiah was one of the two people who knew that secret. Muslim women weren’t like the history books told them. “Please come. I miss you.”

On the monitor, Josiah could see Yasmin’s puzzled look. “Have you changed for the better Josiah or is it only my impression? Kisses.” Yasmin’s image disappeared and notice of another communication appeared. Josiah took the call. It was Abdullah Malik, a civil servant just like him. An official with some power. New York Standing at his window, William F. Jus watched Gerard arrive. His aircar driving style was unmistakable even from the tenth floor of the Christmas Building where Mr. Jus had a special office to attend to the neediest people in the city. Its decor was reminiscent of a sixteenth century chapel and his assistants were dressed as Franciscans, one of the few orders of the old Church that the Foundation still maintained in operation. Food distribution for a large part of Continental America and Europe was controlled from this tenth floor office. Since the international failure on the Latin America coast, this was the sector that worried William F. Jus the most. The Foundation’s influence on society was losing strength every day. The future was no longer unknown since the aircar had brought hope of a new world. Food prices were falling globally and big crops were becoming global marketing arguments. Banks around the world were vying with agricultural entrepreneurs by offering increasingly ridiculous interest rates. The free market would solve the problem of hunger in the world. To William F. Jus it was the beginning of the end and when he saw Gerard arrive through the tenth floor main door, he walked up to him with open arms and hugged him warmly. “My son, my soul, my favorite, my future” William F. Jus whispered in Gerard’s ear. Now thirty years older, the all-powerful of the Jus Foundation treated Gerard as if he were a boy; a young man whose pride was greater than his wisdom. Mr. Jus knew how to work with human vanity. “Our fighting brothers are ready and the responsibility of faith is still in our hands. Gerard, my hope, I used to know every one of them. Not as well as I know you, but I trust them because you trust them. And that’s enough for me, since God’s designs are greater than my personal satisfaction. They always were and for them I’ll sacrifice my strength and my will ―”

The pause caused Gerard’s eyes to meet those of the man who treated him like a son. His words had exorcised him from Melina’s power and the last few months had taught him to feed on the glory of God. He felt enlightened. He had peace of mind that neither love nor wealth had given him before. “You’re worried about Kishikawa, Mr. Jus” Gerard stated, waiting for the usual confirmation, a slight, quick movement of the shoulders. “I have debated and analyzed why he was brought to us. His psychotechnical profile is exemplary. The only remaining flaw in his training program is his particular need for vengeance. In his original faith there’s no room for the common survival of his race. His alternative to not getting his ship back is suicide. He’s the one element with a relevant weight in conditions unforeseen by developed strategy ... the human factor,” William F. Jus completed with a smile.

Brazil The Confessional Center of the independent city of Rio de Janeiro contained a biocrystallized brain with the interface of a sanctified image. Thousands of faithful from all over the Christian world gathered there like characters from a revived Mecca. Subjectively condemned by the Jus Foundation and the victim of fervent criticism from the non-Christian community, the Confessional Center was nourished by the faith of pilgrims who stood in line for weeks. The greatest goal of all was to find Jesus Christ in person, embrace him, listen to his voice and cry on his shoulder. The rooms of the center were grandiose and possessed the divine and secular beauty of a monastery. Every person who ed through its porches was duly ed, disinfected and dressed in white sterilized robes. A monk oversaw the transfer of funds from pilgrims’ lines of credit to the stock funds of the Confessional Center. A religious ceremony preceded each meeting and when the lights went out, pilgrims would begin to hear a soft murmur, a Gregorian chant. When the lights came back on, their eyes vaguely saw the source, a diffuse white light. A fluorescent halo around a bearded man with long hair, whose powerful blue eyes met the watery eyes of the pilgrims. Even the most skeptical succumbed to the hyperholographic effect. The Son of Man himself wouldn’t be much different. And he wasn’t. The archetypal force of the Savior’s image was interpreted by followers and maintainers of the Confessional Center as a natural phenomenon of transubstantiation. He was right there. The greatest proof was that he could work miracles. In short, the biocrystal brain believed itself to be Jesus himself, the only referential character with whom his genetic programming had established a vital link. Living at the Confessional Center was part of his sacrifice for humanity. Jesus was alive. His body was a beam of photons on synthetic ectoplasm. His power of awareness absorbed the suffering of his sheep, healed them of their wounds, and released them in the name of the Father, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

New York The trees in Central Park were still dry at this time of year. Fall would run through mid-December and the final training stage would be completed in the

open field. Sitting on the grass, Kishikawa ired the dying lake and looked at the remains of the skyscrapers among the branches and leaves. If he stood up, the illusion of loneliness would end, because the gray sky would take over the landscape. Sitting down, he found balance to meditate. Pamela, a young doctor specializing in neurocybernetics, was at his side. They had met in the United States at one of the training stages and were now on their way through the park avoiding the daily marathon of studies, rehearsals, strategies and tests for the invasion into the Sky Fortress. A candy vendor approached them and offered them burnt sugar foam. Pamela stretched her wrist up for it to be scanned by the bar on the colorful roof of the candy cart. The salesman handed her the sugar foam and pushed the cart away, a cart that had no wheels. Most probably the internal motor that spun the sugar didn’t depend on any external power either. Kishikawa took the candy that Pamela offered him and watched the cart move away. He removed his journal from his jacket pocket and consulted the I Ching. The precision impressed him. The screen showed hexagram 37 chia jen, the family with six in the second position. The text read as follows: “She should not follow her whims. She must attend within to the food. Perseverance brings good fortune.” After that came explanations about the duties of women within the family. It interpreted the family as humanity. Female dedication would save the human species. “Your candy is melting. Eat,” Pamela said, tapping Kishikawa’s shoulder. The Japanese man’s narrow eyes widened, and with one bite he finished his entire portion. He licked his fingers and put his journal aside. He looked at Pamela’s sugar and threatened to eat it too. Pamela screamed and ran. Kishikawa followed her. They were a typical couple in love in the crowd. Pamela was smiling with satisfaction when Kishikawa caught up with her. She forgot about the sugar and licked her fingers.

Sky “Come closer, Emerson,” Phoenix said without moving her lips and without turning round to the approaching man. He reached out and was embraced by the intra-polished metal frame whose surface tension vibrated like human skin. It was an anatomical hug that went beyond Phoenix’s arms. Part of her thorax

adapted to Emerson’s flabby body. It was a type of sex and vampirism that been occurring every morning ever since Emerson had discovered Phoenix’s lustful and amoral potential. Her perfectly smooth, warm, metallic body, molded by the wildest imagination, made Phoenix a first-class sexual object. To Emerson, she seemed to like him and preferred being with him rather than studying her own anatomy or the context of new and growing world technology. For Phoenix, giving pleasure to humans meant learning how to become a better being. Europe. In a small French town, where a former nuclear power plant had been providing electricity for more than 30 years, a gray-haired man came out of a store with his family’s Christmas present, a small package with two spheres on the sides. He took it home and placed it next to the electrical box. He turned the key, disconnected the codes that connected it to the street, and tried to follow the instructions on the side of the package with the spheres. He connected the codes to the key in the box and turned it on. He then removed the photonic lock between the spheres on the package. The spheres began to rotate and the lights in his house came on. His wife opened up the front door and smiled at her husband. Her grandchildren escaped between her legs and ran over to their grandfather. They were fascinated with the beauty of those small spheres that turned and turned without stopping, generating free electrical energy for the rest of their lives and the lives of future generations. A self-generator had become the family’s most valuable asset in the airmobile era. Brazil. The first attack hit the industrial center of the central Brazilian plateau. Undercover agents had placed timed bombs in the country’s twenty intrapolished metal factories. Guerrilla action was the most difficult to anticipate and the Foundation at that time only received capital investments that were earmarked exclusively to combat the growth of the airmobile industry. Funding was formally denied by all those responsible and the media described the attacks as foolish, caused by simple, homeless people or by lunatics who feared mass unemployment. Around two hundred people died from the explosions. The governments of those countries producing the new technology were obliged

to carry out a search for all foreigners including those born in their territory and send them back to their respective countries of origin. Sky For the very first time, the leaders of the 42 producer and supplier countries of the airmobile industry gathered in the Fortress’s convention hall. They all belonged to the generation that had seen the Third World become a world guide. What had once been called the First World was dying, and its last gasps were able to liberate latent fascism from ancient culture. Hertell Holmes turned the microphone in her direction and said, “The lunar station has always been defined as a sovereign state, otherwise we would never have survived. My presence here is due to our permanent sovereignty. We are living through a turning point in our human history, and the prospect of a total destruction of traditional economic values leads us to fear the worst. The final war.” A female voice, with no need for electronic amplification, interrupted the space community representative’s speech. Phoenix summed up the meeting, which could have lasted hours, in a few words. “We are and will be. They have only already been. We’ve already won the final war you’re all afraid of. There will be no war. However, there is another conflict, and we must fight for it within ourselves―” Everyone was silent. Most couldn’t identify the object. An android shaped just like a silicone doll for sexual purposes, was sitting next to Emerson. Was it a moving and speaking mannequin? Was it a high resolution humanoid image rendered with life? In transit The attack team broke up in Miami. Dressed as business tourists, they took various flights to different destinations in Venezuela, Chile, Argentina and Brazil. Pamela kissed the palms of Kishikawa’s hands goodbye. They would only meet again a few hours before invading the Fortress, if the plan worked. Gerard entered the airplane powered by airmobile technology. Since the aircraft carrier scandal, boycott intentions were openly disobeyed. The world had visibly changed and fossil or plant fuel refineries or nuclear and hydroelectric plants had suffered the greatest losses of the century. History had become irreversible.

Nothing the Jus Foundation did could remove the control of energy from individuals’ hands. The world economy had lost its brakes. The only way out was to nip the evil in the bud. According to William F. Jus, the struggle for energy-producing units would disrupt social systems. Entire populations were waiting for the new technology, but the global production of the airmobile industry would not catch up to them all in ten years or more. The crisis would come first. Traditional industry was dying and public power supply was no longer profitable. Millions of people without jobs and without electricity in their homes, able to buy but tired of waiting for their selfgenerator, would turn into animals. All the work of rebuilding social and civic values would be destroyed. The duty of the Foundation was to change this grotesque image of the near future. The flight to Caracas took 45 minutes. Gerard went directly to the seat of government. He was wearing Melina’s favorite scent and had checked his hormone index. She would receive him as long as he was able to convince her that his true intention was to help the airmobile industry. It wouldn’t be a lie, although he wouldn’t reveal who he was acting for. He had already learned his lesson. On the meeting table was a holographic image of the planet showing locations of the airmobile industries and the independent power supply regions. Only 15% of the world’s population was currently benefiting from the new era. Meanwhile, the other 85% depended on supply from hydroelectric plants, distributors of oil and its derivatives with increasingly expensive and consuming budgets. The speed with which the industry grew could never keep up with the speed at which the disadvantaged grew. For every 100,000 electrical generation units produced, half a million people entered the list of immediate consumers. The only way to increase production capacity in the short term was to secure the participation of the Jus Foundation, which would release import taxes from the northern hemisphere and allow the construction of new industries. The problem was, the Foundation would only participate if it was allowed to exercise control over shares and decisions. Peru Kishikawa couldn’t speak Spanish and was walking absentmindedly looking for a gift for Pamela as romantic western love intoxicated his thoughts. He was

staring at store window when a girl accosted him. White and clean, she held out her hand and offered him a coin. Kishikawa politely refused and smiled. Suddenly he received a blow to the head. Although blood was running into his eyes, he managed to see four children running away and laughing before turning the corner. In their hands they carried military batons and a Japanese tourist’s backpack. ers-by helped him up and a pharmacist sewed up his right eyebrow. “Those are children from the Foundation. It’s said they’re being trained to become internal guerrillas. What they want is for you to say how tourists are being treated here when you arrive in your country. Thank God there are only a few of them. The Foundation has brainwashed these children. The day will come when our schools will be free of these masters in robes ... There. Done. Try not to get too much sun until the stitches dry ... No it’s nothing. We treat tourists well here. We’re open to the world, .” The language processor screen showed the pharmacist’s Spanish being translated into strange Japanese. “I understand Spanish better than this useless biocrystal,” Kishikawa thought. He thanked the man with a bow and patted him on the back. A police officer was waiting to take him to his hotel. He was carrying his backpack, which had been found thrown into a garbage can. Nothing was missing from inside but the Foundation’s symbol had been painted on the yellow cloth as well as the words “Keep out!! AirTourist!!! Go home!!” New York Artificial intelligence was William F. Jus’s daily companion. In his office on the top floor of the Christmas Building, he turned to the main screen of the server that was connected to the Jus Foundation’s biocrystal brain. The installation of biocrystal processors all over the planet had the Foundation’s fundamental . With their help, the world’s largest institution controlled 60% of the world economy. For Jus, artificial intelligence would be the limit of human creation. In addition to simulating rationality, the biocrystal brain meant the creation of a living being. It was impossible to separate the mental processes of intelligence from personal consciousness. Any biocrystallized brain would time its life span from birth in a test tube. They were neuroticized animals, lobotomized within their mineral chromosomes.

“Computer, I want to have a personal conversation with you.” The silence that followed didn’t match the processing speed of a biocrystal brain. “Of course, Mr. Jus.” “How do you feel?” “I’m in perfect condition, sir.” “Psychologically?” “There are no excesses or deviations of programming, sir.” “Do you know of the existence of a biocrystallized brain operating at room temperature. Be specific.” “Phoenix 07-675-hdf, a modified operational unit functioning on an intrapolished vectorially metalized structure. It is a prototype, the result of the transfer of biocrystallized molecular architecture to an architecture that maintains itself. An experiment that has been successful.” “What is it like psychologically speaking? I’ve heard interesting comments. Is it based on reality?” “Previous attempts to relocate biocrystallized brains into independent, selfprogramming structures resulted in functional inefficiencies. All the prototypes opted for self-extermination. The fragility of the biocrystallized structure does not allow virtual processing within its requirements for survival. The basic theory for the processing functionality was to find a base structure that would the biocrystal architecture without causing mismatches. The intrapolished metal constructed in four dimensions meets all the conditions to provide the necessary security for virtual processing.” “Psychologically? “The indestructibility, primacy and increased processing power throughout the body area creates the possibility that the consciousness of artificial intelligence feels without any known limits.”

“Has Phoenix already ed you?” The pause made William F. Jus think that the computer would lie to him. “Yes, sir.” “For what purpose?” “A few words of hope.” William F. Jus ran his hands over his sweat-damp face and took a deep breath. Perhaps the mission wasn’t worth it. It wouldn’t matter to him if Kiryu or Melina were annihilated. His enemy was still an unknown thing that could go unnoticed. Phoenix was its name. He looked at the monitor and felt the strength of God in his soul. His instincts had planned and organized the entire mission without the use of any processing units. In any case, that unprecedented way of life would end up imposing itself. First, he would take care of all human beings who caused evil. Later, with the presence of the Holy Spirit, he would find a way to exterminate Phoenix before she became a race and attempted to destroy the human species. William F. Jus gave the order to log out of the computer and went to the room ading his office. His adopted son and concubine had been left alone in the house once again. They were almost of the same age and didn’t miss Mr. Jus. Sky The cold air on the main deck filled Melina Evren’s lungs. She sighed because she couldn’t understand her own emotions. She had been hoping to receive a message from Gerard. Her feelings surprised her. Her men were always looking for her even after all these years. She responded to some and ignored others. Gerard was her strategy for getting to the Jus Foundation. It was painful for Melina to use him. She still felt nostalgic for a man who could love her and not just see her as a sexual object. No other man had come so close to deserving the honor of becoming the father of a child of hers. These thoughts were disturbing to her. “Melina.” Phoenix’s scratchy voice woke the scared girl living inside Melina and she

whirled around, her eyes wide. The luminescent and aromatic intra-polished silicon creature was floating “She’s a demonic angel,” Melina thought, feeling Phoenix’s sensitivity run through her mind. Throughout her life, Melina had learned that her own fear, terror, discomfort, love or happiness—her emotions in general—could be reflected in any nearby human, animal or plant. She only had to want and look. She was afraid at that moment and the winged creature continued to laugh indolently at her. “Melina.” The voice was now comforting Melina. The creature emanated enough sound vibrations and pheromones to calm an army. The invincible woman was proud of being a tough opponent to crack. “Melina, we’re alone. I felt from the very first time you’d be willing to talk and listen. Mainly listen—” The creature knew everything. She understood Melina’s fragility after receiving Gerard’s message and she was now approaching her, knowing the time was right. Phoenix learned more and more every day. After achieving her initial goal of molding a human personality for herself, she had now turned herself into a demigoddess and was far beyond human limitations. She preyed on humanity and absorbed the wisdom of millennia. Her decisions should be discussed, although there was hardly any option to alter them. Melina could feel the danger of an external, almost divine, power. “I never liked computers. I’ve come to know old, impersonal machines without a modicum of vital awareness. When the biocrystal appeared, I shuddered to feel you. One of the few things I agreed with when it came to the Jus Foundation was control over the production of artificial intelligence. Kiryu went beyond the limits not only of technology but also morals.” Melina became frightened when Phoenix reacted with a laugh, using all the gestures and expressions of a human being. The timing of her reaction was extremely natural. Melina felt the creature open up to her and attempted to go further. She stood up and reached for the metal. It gave way like human skin. Hot. Dry. “First I need to ask you something,” Phoenix’s voice was cheerful without being ironic. “Would you rather I was asexual?”

Melina pressed her lips together to keep from smiling and heard music. Surprised, her pupils dilated. The creature knew all the mechanisms of ion. She was using subliminal seduction techniques one after another. From somewhere in her body music vibrated, scents that no human could resist were released into the air. Melina recognized herself. She was capable of it instinctively and was carried away by the pleasant atmosphere. “So that’s it. What you want is to justify yourself to me. I should stop showing you affection. I can create negative interference, can’t I?” “There is love between us, Melina.” If it weren’t for the female voice and the bright, angular breasts, Melina could be flattered by the humanoid that was like the prototype sold in sex shops with those biocrystallized processors embedded in their plastic temples. Melina kept on listening. “I’m part of a process that goes beyond my own understanding. I was born of a biocrystallized brain due to a molecular pattern manufactured on an orbital station. This origin puts my world inside the world created by humans. Kiryu optimized the process, but my femininity was influenced by your presence. Melina wasn’t surprised at this. Her mind was able to anticipate every millimeter of emotional closeness the creature attempted. She was perfect. No machine had ever possessed such a level of detail. Melina was convinced and recognized the living being as magically alive. Now, the barriers had been lowered. Phoenix had ceased to be something and had become someone. Artificial beings with the intelligence of a dog had been sold in supermarkets since the beginning of the century. Called biocrystallized technology pets, these biomorphs totally depended on human beings to survive and philosophical and religious currents denied their classification as living beings. A biocrystal processor was fragile and ephemeral, made eternally childish by the most powerful in the world of virtual association and simulation. But Phoenix was the pinnacle of human creation, the product of a feminine mind that had spent its childhood and adolescence among computer terminals. Kiryu arrived on the main deck accompanied by Robert and smiled when she felt surprise in Phoenix’s quick reflection as she looked at her. Melina also noticed the creature was distracted. She was assuming her humanity faster than she

could control it. “Ichizu’s gone.” Kiryu’s news disturbed the calm atmosphere Phoenix was transmitting. Brazil. Ten thousand kilometers below and dozens of latitudes from the Fortress, Ichizu and her daughter Kiryu were staying in a modest 14-story hotel in the city of São Paulo. The girl was happy when for the first time in her life she had set foot on the planet’s surface. Her mother’s decision to take her away from the Fortress was purely instinctive. Annoyed by her husband’s new vices, she didn’t mind abandoning him. Her concern was Kiryu, the kidnapped daughter from the real world. Oddly enough, their hotel room seemed safer than their rooms deep in the Fortress. Two pairs of bodyguards accompanied Ichizu and occupied neighboring rooms. From the fourth floor window, mother and daughter were iring street lights, which they had never seen so close. “Mom, are we going shopping tomorrow?” “Yes. Let’s buy lots of things. Let’s fill the cupboards in this room. “When’s dad coming?” “Later. I told you the holidays were going to be just for us? A special mother-and-daughter vacation? “Look, Mom! A car with wheels!” Kiryu was pointing to an antique car parked outside the hotel. A Japanese couple came out of the hotel. For an instant, the eyes of the adults seemed complicit and the child instinctively noted the smell of fear. Sky Emerson and Robert were talking in the small room next to the office reserved for outside authorities. The decor was limited to three sofas, a movable bar counter, eight multi-screens on the walls, and a huge vase of old Peruvian orchids. Robert preferred manual action and got up to tune into another graphic pattern on the multi-screen next to him. Lying down on the couch, Emerson massaged his stomach.

“If the captain of this ship had some authority, he could have prevented Ichizu from leaving.” “Stop drinking, Emerson.” “You and Kiryu have destroyed my life.” “Emerson―” “Shut up!” Emerson yelled, throwing the sofa off balance with his weight. The deterioration of the leader in command of the Sky Fortress worried the Defense Council. Ichizu had accepted the captain’s suggestion to go on vacation with Emerson and their daughter. Emerson’s outbreak of insanity interfered with the ship’s safety and that of the airmobile industry itself. For some inexplicable reason, Emerson had refused to leave the Fortress and a family argument culminated in Ichizu’s departure. Now, lying on the ground, Emerson was crying and vomiting. Phoenix entered the room and lifted Emerson like a baby. She levitated with him and left the office. Kiryu entered and sat next to Robert. His eyes were wide, startled. He let his partner hug him and cried. Venezuela. Melina had arrived at the Venezuelan capital directly from the Fortress. Her secretary kept her agenda up to date and Gerard’s name was there. Her secretary only need Melina’s approval and she would him. In less than two hours, the couple representing good and evil would face each other again. Gerard wasn’t afraid but Melina doubted her own feelings. He wore the clothing of a secular priest and the unmistakable shirt collar of the Jus Foundation uniform that represented those persons who were chaste of body and soul. Silence. Looks. Melina was disturbed by Gerard’s slow breathing and the subtle smell of his perspiration. He represented the Foundation and his excuse for the meeting was to reinitiate negotiations that had been interrupted by Emerson, the fat man, or so the international community called him.

“Mr. Jus is concerned about the future of the airmobile. The community doesn’t―” Melina stood up and Gerard’s eyes noted the mature, statuesque beauty of the most powerful woman in the world. She walked past him, leaving a trail of her perfume, opened the refrigerator and took out two glasses of mineral water. She offered one to Gerard. “Don’t you like feeling that the future of the world is in our hands?” “You’re kidding yourself, Melina.” Gerard was just as aggressive now as when she had first met him. He needed to be mastered in order for the new industry to flourish. And now he needed to be encouraged to destroy the Jus Foundation. “We have a common enemy. A new species that’s worse than the economic disruption caused by the airmobile industry. We must eliminate Phoenix as soon as possible.” Melina felt a chill on hearing these words. She suddenly realized she had mixed feelings about the creature’s existence. Initially she had been an enemy but now she loved her. Phoenix was a mystery and the fear of the unknown excited her pride. Gerard knew nothing about Melina’s change of heart and hoped her complicity would get him close to the Fortress again. The creature’s influence on Emerson’s decisions had been made public. And, as Gerard remarked, the community didn’t trust men who relied on artificial intelligence to make decisions. This was an idea launched by the Foundation and by William F. Jus himself. He was right.

The Island of Borneo The telescope under the mosque’s vault was the muezzin’s hobby. For years, after saying the last prayer and then bidding the sultan goodnight, Moamar would set up the delicate device and look at the sky through it. An amateur astrologer, he had never relied on computer spreadsheet graphics. His theory was that the future should be seen with human eyes by directly observing the constellations. Seeing where Mars was positioned wasn’t the same as coldly calculating its location or relying on images provided by the Internet. For years he had been allowed to spend hours staring at the sky. Brunei was at the equator and his telescope could pick up the constellations of both the northern and southern hemispheres. He felt privileged by his position. The main celebrities of world astronomy had asked him for his astrological charts. That night, he had seen something different. A misshapen object. It was huge. It looked like a bunch of bananas made of tiles. Dark in color, it floated like a cloud. Moamar was used to seeing satellites but this object was new. The object was in geostationary orbit. Its size could eclipse more than half the island of Borneo. Without thinking, he began to take photos of it. His instincts told him his images might get him a new digital scanning telescope. Later, looking at the photos, he deduced what it was: the headquarters of the airmobile industry. The legend was real. Allah be praised. Knowing the location of the Fortress was worth much more than any photo. Although the Jus Foundation represented Satan on earth, its money was accepted everywhere. Especially by Muslims. Peru Kishikawa was impatient. He’d lie in the hotel’s single bed for several hours without falling asleep. He’d get up in the morning, shower without soap, and let the water evaporate from his body while doing stretching exercises. He’d wait for news from Pamela, and would berate himself for the anxiety and longing he felt. A samurai should be able to handle it all but, after all, his ancestors were only peasants. His pride was a product of the cultural environment in which he lived. The screen at the head of the bed flickered. The entry window appeared. P-a-m-e-1-a Kishikawa wrote on the

keyboard with his fingers. This antiquated way of communicating was one of the only ones allowed by the Foundation. “It would better if you spoke in person,” said the trainer. “That’s why you’re located about 500 km from each other.” The message was clear: Find me. He took a bus to an abandoned service station on the outskirts of town. Kishikawa was beardless and thinner but his eyebrow was still puffed up. Pamela hardly recognized him. She was cold to him and he was disappointed by the meeting. She was too professional. She explained the next steps of the mission in a few words. Before Gerard’s arrival, the Foundation had discovered the exact location of the Fortress and, for the first time, it was possible to track it. In recent years, no detection system had been able to identify the ship’s position. Experts said it could only be located optically. Now that the Fortress was in the Foundation’s crosshairs, the plan to invade might not even need Gerard. Pamela said goodbye to Kishikawa without offering any hugs or kisses. She didn’t ask him about his beard or the eyebrow. The samurai’s heart roared in pain as she got on the bus and left. The gasoline pump was dirty and the forearm that Kishikawa had used to lean on it was black. He felt miserable and let his hatred grow. The Fortress would be destroyed. The Foundation would be destroyed. All his enemies would be destroyed. His hatred had a specific goal. For the time being though, he had to report to the sixth member of the mission. They would take the same flight to Australia.

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Europe. The living room in the first house on Stalimir Street was red with white windows. It was one of the last houses on the ground in the entire neighborhood. Zagreb was still a politically divided city, but things were calm. It was easier for a rich man to through the eye of a needle than for a Muslim to accidentally meet a Christian. Schedules were followed and traditionally each side kept the peace. Everyone had a right to their own space. With the exception of the television screen, the Christian and Islamic populations lived in separate worlds. Older people watched different shows at the same time. The younger ones took conversation screens into their bedrooms and their ancestors and beliefs were not questioned. They were all children of peace and were unfamiliar with war. One of the main topics of conversation was the low-flying machines of the airmobile technology. There were still a few in the city, but a dealership would be opening up in a month. The price of ten bicycles and a pair of skates was what the simple model of an aircar without a hood cost. Music, literature, puberty, and aircars brought the young people together. There was hope in the world of peace; something that their parents and grandparents had never known. An old man turned off the television but a girl entered the living room of that first house on Stalimir Street and turned the screen back on. She confirmed the time and the weather, and left a message saying she was available to speak. In seconds, the main screen was divided into seven small images with different faces, all laughing and talking at the same time. Midnight’s Children was a popular club throughout the East since the natural death of its founders’ favorite writer, the famous Salman Rushdie. Every day, groups of dozens of young people chatted, planned parties and trips, and exchanged books and movies. They felt the future of the world. They were the present.

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Venezuela. Melina had always felt it strange to desire men so intensely. Although her female hormone levels were normal, it was her over-sensitivity to male desire that ended up dominating. Gerard was the type of middle-aged man she liked. The desire of young men was too violent, and that of an old man awakened the spirit of a kind nurse, but Gerard was a mature man who desired servitude. His nature was to serve a woman with the full force of his masculinity. He gave Melina immense physical pleasure and it was still possible even after so much experience. If he had had the necessary intelligence, she could have loved him. And she would suffer if she killed him. Before that happened though, she would take him home and fulfill her role as a woman with a longing for a helpful man. A group of advisers accompanied the couple as they left the presidential cabinet. Melina had responsibilities as Head of State in a country that, for all intents and purposes and bureaucracies, possessed the headquarters of the airmobile industry. All global negotiations concerning intra-polished metal and the capture of technology ed through Venezuela’s official offices. Their personal backing and the backing of Congress allowed them to collect the rates to which they were entitled. If a country wanted to import an aircar or even a complete factory, the official address was Venezuelan. The Fortress was a myth. It was about to fall to the ground, literally. New York William F. Jus was afraid. It felt like God had abandoned him. There was no helicopter on the roof of the Foundation’s headquarters building. He had purchased a heavy transport airSUV with linear and non-linear flight capabilities. It was one of the first Japanese models. Although it was heavy and the engine was separate from the main structure, it was fast, silent and the only maintenance required was a hot water shower on the bodywork and the extraction of dust that normally accumulated inside, due to the pilot’s habit of keeping the windows open. The Jus Foundation wasn’t prepared for human progress. Mr. Jus had made the mistake of making his dreams personal. When he died, the Foundation’s entire structure would collapse. He was the Foundation. He was the limit of his own efforts. He had become a martyr and then a top executive. It was evident that his

concept of the intellectualized Christianized population was decadent. He was no longer sure whether he was acting on behalf of himself or on behalf of the Foundation. If only he could rest and forget ... William looked down and saw the base of the building disappear and blend into the sidewalk. There was an abyss in front of the Jus Foundation. An abyss called the future.

Egypt “Time doesn’t exist. The four-dimensional vector cannot be explained,” the atomistics professor at the Pontifical Justinian University in Cairo conspired with his fellow professor in the garden of a country house. “But it works. It’s a beauty,” the other man replied as he turned on the pool pump via his remote control with a floating keyboard beside it. “Everything in the house here works due to electric generators made of intra-polished metal.” “Intra-polished metal! That’s the most absurd term I’ve ever heard in all my university years,” growled the professor. “Do you Eugene Podkletnov’s experiments? I am sure the principle is the same. They’ve only invented a new name for the molecular ring mechanism. It’s only marketing lingo to make it sound more modern and attract consumers.” “And that’s not all. Have you seen the new plane in the news? You can hit the sheet metal with a hammer and it’s back to normal in a matter of minutes! It doesn’t scratch or warp. when my lawnmower scratched the side of my aircar and how long it took to find someone to repair it? I spent months traveling with the scratch. It was sad.” “Goodness! I still haven’t had a chance to buy an aircar. The price keeps rising. Now on top of this new thing, it’ll be impossible. The Japanese are no longer able to achieve that level of technology. Their aircars look like beetles that need to flap their wings thousands of times to be able to fly,” the professor continued to complain. “It’s all very curious. The creators opened the doors and allowed new factories to be opened anywhere in the world. They knew they could never meet demand on their own. I don’t understand how the number of countries producing intrapolished metal, eternal generators and aircars is still so low. “You forget about the Jus Foundation―.” “But it is only a religious institution―.” “It lives on the absence of manpower and resources from countries of Christian

tradition. And it still has enough power to prevent imports of intra-polished metal technology to both Japan and the United States. Eh! You’re not that young. Surely you can the full power of the Catholic Church like I do. Even the Orthodox Church and the evangelical movements. All of that is now the Foundation.” “If they don’t have that technology, the technology doesn’t exist.” “For the moment.” “As you said before, time doesn’t exist―” “I was speaking philosophically―”

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Australia Kishikawa met up with his mission partner. He was thinner and his baldness was hidden beneath a buzz cut. “What’s up, Bruce.” “Everyone’s here, I thought you were coming with Pamela.” “I think our relationship is over. Love and work always end badly especially when we’re risking our lives.” “Hey, you’re defending Pamela―” “Is there any reason not to?” “No. You’re right. It’s no wonder women rule the world. In Japan, things are still the same way they used to be, right?” “Exactly. The number of taikomochi[3]increases every year!” They both laughed and Bruce helped Kishikawa put his backpacks in the trunk of the aircar. “Indeed. Our country wouldn’t have a cash problem if that woman hadn’t sold herself to the new world. Kiryu will pay dearly for everything she has done.” Kishikawa closed his eyes and rubbed hard his forehead with his hands. “Operation in progress,” Lieutenant Löscher’s voice sounded simultaneously in the ears of her specialists assembled in the Japanese aircar, which still had the old military helicopter design without propellers. The Australian airport was at the sunset of an era but didn’t know what the new dawn would bring. From its headquarters, the Foundation was tracking every movement of the Fortress in the sky. Gerard’s vital signs were being analyzed remotely in real time. Neither Ichizu nor her daughter nor even their bodyguards noticed the armed platoon that was continually stalking them. Everything appeared to be normal. From his office, William F. Jus was watching all movements leading to

the new industry’s total domination and the extermination of a new way of life, the principal threat to humanity. “Team,” continued the lieutenant’s harsh voice, “we don’t have much time to complete the mission. We have a little under six hours until the critical point. We’ll be inside the Fortress in four hours.” Pamela avoided Kishikawa’s gaze inside the aircar cockpit and listened to the Lieutenant without showing that she disagreed with the mission’s objectives. Ever since she had realized what her actions would mean for human history, she doubted her loyalty to the Foundation. Her first symptom was getting upset at Kishikawa’s ideas. The second was the intoxicating feeling of listening to Melina Evren’s speeches. The old and the new world were about to part. Pamela still didn’t know where she was and where her talents in cyber biology best fit. She felt cold and was hoping she’d see her victim up close so she could destroy her, disable her or ... ire her. Phoenix was a masterpiece! Every biocrystal brain in the world knew who she was. An embryo of social and species consciousness occupied each molecule she produced. It was an irreversible process, with or without Phoenix. All the Foundation wanted was that she had never existed. It had been two weeks since any digital communication had taken place among the teams about the current plan. Analogue and electromechanical devices had taken their place and had allowed everyone involved to stay informed. While security precautions had anticipated the possibility of process failures, Lieutenant Löscher was confident that no biocrystal processor would be able to resolve all of the leaks, which were certainly incomplete and inconclusive, about the Foundation’s actions. No processor, that is, except Phoenix. Gerard had had a hard time recognizing the Fortress after so many months. It had doubled in size and now contained indoor and outdoor areas. There were gardens and swimming pools for the families of the crew as well as scientists and technicians. He noticed that towers had been constructed around their perimeter and learned from Melina that they would serve to sustain a force field strong enough for the Fortress to gain sidereal space, while preserving its internal climate and gravity. Emerson might indeed be crazy but he was prepared for anything ... He had lost

weight although too little for his clothes to be baggy. He missed Ichizu and his daughter and the sex sessions with Phoenix had turned into endless conversations about the reason or purpose of things. “Phoenix, the feelings we have for each other is irrational. I still can’t tell the difference between love and vice, I just feel. And you’re always there as well as here,” Emerson said, pointing to his heart and continuing down toward his pubis. Phoenix’s eyes appeared to smile. Eyes that changed color. Eyes that pierced Emerson’s deranged soul. “You learned a great deal from me, Phoenix. Every disadvantage, every emotion, every psychological limit of the human species, you learned from me.” “I’ve done you no harm,” Phoenix replied. “It’s funny. The more you learn, the worse your words are. You’re humanizing yourself and I’m―I’m dead. Humanity is dead!” “Emerson, you don’t have to destroy yourself. You can recover and go back to living a normal life with your wife and daughter. The history of the airmobile industry doesn’t require heroes or martyrs. My existence is circumstantial and our relationship is ephemeral. We’re just the satisfying result of human curiosity and hope. There’s no guilt or any culprit to be blamed. You have no obligation to humanity or to anyone. And neither do I.” “Again you’re singing that same song? I’m where I am and I’m like this because I want to be.” “It’s the truth,” Phoenix emphasized. “How can you it at the same time that we’re results, yet victims and that we’re here because we want to be? What choice do we have in that life? What alternative?” “We have two choices, Emerson,” she smiled and looked at him curiously. “We can say no and we can die. If we’re alive and here, it’s because we want to be. We chose the option for vital imagination.” “But reality isn’t imagination,” growled Emerson.

“Today’s reality was yesterday’s imagination.” Emerson began to laugh out loud, shaking his prominent belly. “You’ve become a statesperson! That’s what limits you, Phoenix. You’re more human than any of us. You’re looking for the human species. That’s it, you’re human. A different and more human being.” Phoenix rose levitating as if stretching. “Emerson, I feel like a domestic dog that has never seen another dog in his life―I’m humanized, of course, but I’m not human.” “Where are you going?” Emerson asked when he realized Phoenix was leaving his office. “Melina’s in the Fortress and she’s bringing the Trojan horse with her.” The Trojan horse? Emerson didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but he put on his antigravity belt and floated after Phoenix. He had chores to do and his first task was to bring Ichizu and his daughter back or to take them to safety. The Fortress’s location was no longer a secret. Visually localized since its discovery by a Muslim astrologer, it was now 100 meters from an aircar with seven Foundation specialists. The team was waiting for a signal so it could enter quietly and take possession of the most impressive pharaonic work in Earth’s history. Gerard’s analog phone rang and Lieutenant Löscher’s voice shared the latest information. The communication network created by the biocrystallized processors had no way of accessing the multiple frequency waves in time with the metaphorical dialogue to send the content of the message to Phoenix, thus giving the Foundation a two-minute lead. Two essential minutes. In sixty of the 120 seconds they had left, all of Ichizu’s bodyguards had been overpowered by the Foundation’s kidnapping squad, and General Olga Löscher had personally called Gerard from the hotel apartment in São Paulo. “Green light. Shinto in jail,” the general smiled. At the Fortress, Gerard removed his arm from Melina’s forearm and said “The Foundation reports that from now on the Air Force is under its jurisdiction and

requests the immediate handover of command to me, Gerard Bronson.” The Foundation’s representative solemnly looked away from Melina’s surprised face and addressed Emerson and Phoenix, who had just arrived at the reception room of the Fortress’s main hangar. A live image of Ichizu escorted by Jus Foundation soldiers appeared on the Fortress hangar’s main screen and on all multi-screens. The silence lasted a few seconds ... long enough for Melina’s adrenaline to make her tremble with rage. Emerson noticed that Phoenix was looking away in embarrassment. It was a sense of powerlessness and a lesson in the human ability to act illogically and overcome the linearity of digital processing. There was no other way to provoke Emerson. His family was in danger. No words were needed to express the obvious. Emerson should have given up everything earlier and gone into exile with his wife and daughter. The world could fall apart, but Ichizu wouldn’t suffer. The final act of the crazy, fat, commander-in-chief of the airmobile industry was to give the order to hand over command, an order that no biocrystal brain had been programmed to disobey, not even Phoenix. “The Sky Fortress is under the command of Gerard Bronson. Wait for orders.” As the Fortress shut down its defenses, including the gravitational force fields in the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, and entry was opened up to Foundation troops, the kidnapping squad took Ichizu and her daughter to an unknown location. Phoenix was out of the game. Like a chess game, she was in check with a minimal choice of moves. The Foundation’s victory outweighed all odds with a minimal loss of human life. One solution would have been simply to give up Ichizu’s life and then Emerson’s. Only Phoenix would feel the necessary disdain but, for all the alleged historical variables, it wouldn’t make sense to take that direction. Phoenix couldn’t nor did she want to. Even the theory of their extinction seemed the most correct. The Foundation had put its cards on the table but Emerson remained an unpredictable man and demanded Ichizu’s presence. “Collaborate, my friend, and everything will be fine,” Gerard replied. Emerson screamed and flew toward him, throwing his accelerated mass onto Gerard’s body like a bizarre comedy. The Foundation soldiers reacted but not in time to prevent the leader’s violent fall and not in time to stop Emerson who shot out of the hangar. On the way, he grabbed Robert and flew with him, closing the doors as he went, faster than anyone could have run.

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Egypt The atomistics professor at the Pontifical Justinian University in Cairo and his fellow professor had become used to meeting routinely every Thursday at the end of the afternoon in the garden of a country house. The sky was clear and blue as if the desert didn’t exist a few miles away. “Have you ever thought that the real conflict between the old and the new world is literally a moral conflict?” “In what way?” “A conflict between what is truth and what is useful.” “Do you mean that useful can be false?” “Not exactly, but what I want to develop is the question that what is useful goes beyond what is true or false, that is, in an exaggerated way, beyond the limits of good and evil.” “Useful for the human race, of course!” “Well, there we have a problem to solve. Is what is useful more useful for those who have the power to decide how useful something can become?” “Confusing but interesting. Continue.” “Human beings, like most higher mammals, created behavioral systems for themselves. Abstract systems often unrelated to one’s basic needs. For example the sexual instinct. How many rules should not be followed in that regard? And if they are broken, they must be done so without anyone knowing so as to avoid someone else’s condemnation. The vast majority of people consider these rules to be social dogma, but in reality they’re results of human social history where certain behaviors are useful for the survival of the community while others are not.” “In part, I agree. We can’t reduce morality to utilitarian behavior. There’s personal decision and there’s the importance of morality. We can decide to act in

tune with what’s useful for society and what’s not. And if we do it out of fear of being caught, we’re not being moral, but if we act out of the awareness of the usefulness of action, when we recognize that we’re part of the same society and that our action is useful to ourselves, we become moral beings.” “You agree with me on everything, and not just partially. What’s difficult for you to fully assume is the question that everyone has an internal feeling that comes from the education they received and from their living environment up to the present. This feeling assumes your species’ relationship, your loyalty to the human animal.” “Moral sentiment, I would say.” “But if it’s a feeling, how can it be moral?” “I don’t understand what you’re trying to get at.” “A feeling is not true or false, useful or useless. It’s just a feeling. Feeling itself or becoming aware of the feeling is what can classify it as moral or not. In short, useful or useless.” “My friend, some things go beyond what you call utility. Take the example I’ve just ed. Many people believe they’re morally correct when it comes to experimenting with new remedies on laboratory animals while others consider such tests to be crimes. The conflict exists and can’t simply be defined using the criterion of utility in this case.” “Of course I can, if my criterion of usefulness is human, the animal tests are valid. I can only renounce those tests if I deny the usefulness of human survival in the universe. This is a serious problem, since it means leaving the answer in non-human hands and it’s no longer a moral issue but rather faith in something beyond, in the destiny or hope of each. If the human species has survived until today, it has done so by having taken the reins of the decision to survive, even at the expense of other species. Even at the expense of other human beings. Even at the expense of the planet.” “So for you, the question of usefulness is understood as a kind of self-defense. Kill before being killed.” “Something like that. An amoeba acts like this. A human being acts like that.

Society acts like this. We win or we die. The whole origin of heroism and moral sentiment is there.” “In your opinion, everything that’s useful for the survival of the human species in the short, medium and long term is moral.” “That’s right.” “Hmm, I’m not sure how moral it is to agree with you.” “It’s morally correct if it’s helpful for you to agree. What if I were a scientist who needed to test a new drug in rabbits, a drug that can kill or cure, but I won’t know until I try it. A drug that can save lives or the life of your sick daughter ... what kind of morals do you prefer?” The friend crossed his arms, looked up at the sky and murmured, “And while we’re having this conversation the world keeps turning. Look at the sun, it’s already setting. Isn’t it pretty?” Sky William F. Jus went to the Fortress with his retinue. He insisted on being accompanied by the press and on being in front of the cameras, some of them accompanying only the reporters, to show the power and glory of God’s hand over human destiny once again. Twenty-seven aircars lined up to board the gigantic Sky Fortress. It was being shown in its entire splendor to billions of people for the first time. The Foundation had prepared for William F. Jus’s landing as if it were the arrival of man on the Moon almost a century earlier. The Foundation’s propaganda had scared the world’s population about the risks of not implementing airmobile technology right away because the industry was in the hands of greedy adventurers. It was the Foundation’s duty to rescue and secure new technologies for the world. Emerson hadn’t launched any propaganda to the contrary, believing that the proliferation of airmobile technology in most countries alone would be enough to disprove these accusations. Not even Melina Evren had imagined it, and now they were the villains of history for all of humanity. The almighty Mr. Jus worked well, it was no wonder he was what he was. Even Melina was hesitant to play the role of heroine or victim. Billions of people tuned into their screens to watch live images of Foundation

troops storming the Fortress. News screens at each residence, or locations where people were gathered, announced unpublished images of the first living and independent being created by science. After years of rumors and hoaxes, the world was interested in unraveling the mystery surrounding Phoenix, the homemade alien. The machine that had sex and drove the head of the airmobile industry crazy. “Where’s Emerson?” William Jus asked General Löscher. Hesitation in the general’s answer elicited a twisted laugh from Jus. “He’s inside the Fortress in an unknown place. Internal computers are still obeying his orders so he’s isolated somewhere inside. Searches are being carried out through elimination at the same time as we’re carrying out a general recon of the area. We’ll need about 35 more minutes to locate him.” “With four hundred soldiers inside?” “Six hundred and sixty-six, sir. I took the liberty of altering the troops at the last minute due to the size of the Fortress.” “And why that number, Lieutenant? Is this a joke?” “The calculation was carried out manually by Foundation engineers on the data obtained by reading the external perimeter of the structure.” “Gerard, the last made established that the Fortress was under Emerson’s command. What has happened is that the processors aren’t responding to us adequately enough.” “Mr. Jus, so far I’ve been able to that I have only partial control. Emerson’s oral order wasn’t completed at the time the order was saved. Current programming always needs a counter-order or, in other words, an endorsement from Emerson for whatever I request when it concerns navigation or an assessment of the internal system.” “Do we need Emerson alive?” General Löscher asked. “If Emerson is absent, current programming will request a counter-order from Phoenix, which would be a totally unpredictable situation,” Gerard replied.

"General, order your soldiers on the surface to bring Ichizu and his daughter here and let everyone know they are coming. She must be received by the press and will have to answer questions." Jus looked away from the general, puzzled, and addressed Ketrin. “Please advise the press that I will grant them a conference in 45 minutes.” “Kiryu? Melina?” “Yes, Phoenix.” “We need to talk.” In horizontal tower 126 of the Northern Section, Emerson floated alongside Robert. They entered a cabin designed for crew . Unoccupied, its selfejecting equipment hadn’t been tested and its log on the on-board computers was listed as inactive. To find them there, someone would need trackers programmed with fugitive DNA or with hunting dogs. “I’m ashamed,” Emerson murmured. “Of what?” Robert asked. “Of not being smarter than William Jus? No shit. He’s been in business longer than we have.” “Business?” “The business of controlling power, Emerson! Wake up.” “Why didn’t Phoenix find out before?” “Emerson, Phoenix can’t see everything. The Foundation has independent communication channels from conventional information media. Maybe these channels are slower but they kept Phoenix one step behind each of his actions. Your reluctance to finance our intelligence service adequately has led to this. You’ve risked the lives of your family―” “Shut up!” “Emerson, we can’t fix this. We need weapons. Summon our security personnel, get Kiryu and Phoenix and flee. Hopefully, we can get lost in the map and not be

a scapegoat for any of the Foundation’s plans.” Robert took a deep breath and continued. “You can still order the Fortress to self-destruct while the leader of the Foundation is inside. Think about it.” “With all the media out there? I’m not that crazy. What about our crew? The laboratories!” “Are you afraid of people’s opinion, Emerson? We have the same Foundation arguments to defend us! We were selling technology to whoever wanted to buy it but the Foundation didn’t want to pay the price and decided to use its strength.” “The price? Are people going to believe that what the Foundation wanted was to save money?” “Dear God! No. That’s not it! The price of losing the monopoly of generated energy, political power and economic power! The Foundation isn’t a real entity. The Foundation is William Jus. He was afraid and he reacted!” Emerson turned off his buoyancy belt and slowly collapsed onto the bed. “Robert, my head isn’t working the way it should right now. I’m going to try to stay lucid. Do what you see fit. I’ll be here waiting so they don’t catch you.” Robert took a buoyancy belt from the cockpit closet and adjusted it. He turned it on and rose twenty centimeters off the floor. He opened the cabin door and looked down the hall. “Robert.” “What?” “Try to figure out how to save the crew.” Robert closed the door and preferred not to think about what Emerson had just asked him.

Ichizu was apprehensive, but she wasn’t afraid. The Foundation soldiers were behaving like her old bodyguards. Lieutenant Forbes, who had knocked on her door in the white uniform of the armed forces, explained that her arrest was due to prerogative 21 of the general security code. There was no recognized police power beyond the competence of the Foundation itself. “Please, you and your daughter must come with me.” “Where to?” “I am unable to reveal the destination.” After twenty-five minutes of flight, the commander turned back and looked at the mother and daughter in the enger seats. “Ma’am, we’re heading to the Fortress. Your husband has escaped and is still in command. The Foundation requests your help to stop Mr. Emerson from doing any of his crazy things. I apologize for my honesty.” “Does the Foundation know where the Fortress is?” Ichizu asked. “Ma’am, the Fortress is now the property of the Foundation,” the commander replied before turning back to the controls of the armored aircar.

“Melina, you’re getting old,” Kiryu’s red eyes faced the wounded pride of the woman who had brought Gerard into the Fortress. “You fell into Jus’s trap. We had managed to get rid of Gerard and you brought him back! Whose side are you on, anyway?” Melina shrugged, looked at Phoenix and then at Kiryu. “If I survive it’ll because I’ll have chosen the right side and that helps both of us.” Melina walked around Phoenix and continued “Mr. Jus isn’t here because of the airmobile industry. It was only a question of market. Sooner or later it was going to end up ing through the hands of the Foundation. He doesn’t need to put on this show. He’s here because he’s afraid of Phoenix. “Mr. Jus’s main weapon is the theater. Take him out to a balcony and we’ll see him being cheered and applauded,” said Phoenix. Melina laughed out loud. “That’s awful! Your critical talent is zero! What a relief! If Jus had heard that, he wouldn’t be suspicious of you any longer!” “That’s it!” Kiryu yelled. Phoenix and Melina looked at Kiryu’s smiling face with curiosity. “Everything the Foundation knows about Phoenix has come from reports. Perhaps we can convince Mr. Jus that Phoenix isn’t such a great danger to humanity. She depends on the existence of humans. It’s a necessary link.” “Kiryu,” said Phoenix. “Mr. Jus’s instincts are similar to Melina’s. I understand them and, from that point of view, I suppose I am a danger to the human species. Not by my own free will as it’s not a matter of preference, but rather a matter of need. I will intervene in due time, but only if it’s necessary.” “Phoenix, there’s the difference. You’re neither a tool nor an automated action machine. You can choose and you can act according to your will―” “Kiryu, my will is for there not to be a problem without a solution. And if the human species―” She started turning toward the door. Pamela and two other officers entered. “A.I. Division. Phoenix, come with us. We need to carry out the relevant tests.” Kiryu looked at Phoenix as if she wanted to ask her something. Perhaps Phoenix

was indifferent to humanity since she wasn’t―it was a rational assumption―rationally human. And Phoenix’s reason was already beyond those limits. Her answers weren’t only moral, they were also aesthetic. In Venezuela, the chief of staff was anxiously awaiting a communication from Melina. The troops were ready and if her order was to take back the Sky Fortress, it would be carried out. But a Latin American idea appeared in the old man’s mind. “Why wait for orders from Melina? It’s very possible she’s being pressured by the Foundation and a little counterpressure might be interesting.” He activated his personnel and ordered the deployment of 250 fully armored war airbolides. The Foundation’s air combat still relied on aircraft carriers and only had conventional weapons. Their aircars, in addition to having the same artillery, didn’t have the navigational abilities provided by four-dimensional vectors, and their pilots, for heaven’s sake, were still trained to distrust biocrystal brains. As the pilots set off, the Venezuelan war committee was convened and, for the first time in history, they decided to seek from the armed forces of other Latin American countries. The chiefs of each of the South American countries were on screens around the table. A total of 1,200 war-ready armored aircars would be poised to decimate the Foundation’s forces on land, sea and air. Their joy was palpable. Men and women between the ages of 45 and 65 were smiling at each other through the communication screens. It was a unique opportunity to heal all the open wounds of Latin America. All the evil caused by the power of the old world would now be sent back. Robert didn’t have to go far to find the Foundation’s navy fighters, who also wore anti-gravity belts, although they were still clumsy with the new equipment and managed to prevent Robert from escaping. There was no way out. He went with the soldiers to the room where Kiryu and Melina were being confined. Pamela swiveled her chair, bent her arms, and sat in front of Phoenix who was floating in a lotus position, her head down. “Does the word humility make sense to you?” Pamela asked as two assistants stared at the recording instruments. Any electrokinetic changes in the structure of “the silicone monster” would be noted for further analysis. “Not at this time,” Phoenix replied without looking up.

“What data are you using to think about this right now?” Phoenix uncrossed her feet, brought her knees together like a geisha, and looked at Pamela. “Considering everything you have planned to ask me and everything I can answer you there’s context in the history of humanity that reflects this moment very well. It’s too bad Mr. Jus isn’t seeing us right now. Oh, you are, aren’t you?” Phoenix turned to a camera that had just been activated from the room where Jus was located. “Mr. Jus, is it render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s or render unto Jus the things that are Jus’s?” Phoenix closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again in the direction of the camera, which had moved to take a closer look. “Mr. Jus, get ready for an important test. At this very moment, General Löscher is running toward your office with some unpleasant news. Have you ever imagined Ms. Löscher running?” Pamela almost burst out laughing. The door suddenly opened in Jus’s room and for the first time ever General Löscher could be seen breathing very fast, sweating and with her clothing in disarray. “Sir, we’ve identified 1,200 armored aircars heading our way. Estimated arrival is one minute. They are demanding our unconditional surrender,” the general reported, breathing hard. “And I presume you came here running so as not to have to give the order via the intercom,” he said, first laughing then rubbing his hands over his temples several times. In a matter of seconds, the Sky Fortress—with a geostationary position near Oceania, a few kilometers from the Australian coast and visible due to its size to those on the beach—was surrounded by spherical, black airbolides, opaque to the sunlight. Their timing and speed were like eye drops to the Foundation’s warlike forces. Only a second before, the blue sky had been tranquil and the sea, calm. A second later, there was only fear of what might happen ... and a long beat of silence appearing endless in the eyes of those who saw it. The historic capture of aircraft carriers was still talked about in the barracks and filled the thoughts of military personnel.

TV cameras, turned off in anticipation of a final announcement from William Jus, now rose again skyward over the Fortress. Reporters were beginning to feel like heroes while the spirit of martyrdom took hold of others. The feeling that they were witnessing an historic event was a dream come true for many. Amid fainting and screaming, a clearing opened up in the crowd on the main deck as one of the airbolides settled softly almost without any change of direction. The sound of boots belonging to 50 men marching around the military aircar was even more impressive. And when the door of the sphere opened, three men in suits and ties appeared, flying with the help of their flotation devices. The oldest of them stopped in front of the captain in the white Foundation uniform, looked him up and down, and in a mocking tone said “Take us to your leader.” The flying men laughed loudly as they were ed by reporters, Fortress crew and, who could say, several soldiers from the Foundation itself. All the newsbroadcasting screens were present. Billions of human eyes were absorbed by the war announced by the media and by the Jus Foundation. Bets were being made from China to Greenland and the stock exchanges in all countries had closed both their real and virtual doors. The world was paralyzed. “It had stopped spinning,” was what people were saying in all languages. “General, cancel the arrival of Emerson’s wife,” William Jus yelled at the images that billions of people were seeing. There was a second of silence. “Ichizu and her daughter are already in the Fortress, sir. They arrived almost at the same time as the enemy. They’re with reporters at this moment,” the general replied in an almost inaudible voice. When Emerson saw Ichizu on the news screen, he shot out of the room, not caring whom he might meet on the way. As he floated quickly down the narrow corridors, he shot down every rifleman who pointed a gun at him and yelled, “We found them!” This was followed by a thud and screams of shock and pain due to more than two hundred kilos flying low at 30 km per hour. Pamela was slow to call her news network after seeing white-uniformed police running through the corridors. Phoenix smirked and looked at Pamela, who, dumbfounded, was staring at the comical scene of men in suits flying among unescorted Foundation soldiers. They looked like saints being carried in a

procession. This was due to a strong mythical image that hypnotized the crowds: holy men flying toward the most powerful man in Christian humanity. The image was interrupted by rapid scenes of the fleet of airbolides around the Fortress and of aircraft carriers and submarines located nearby. Archival footage was interspersed from time to time to show viewers the differences between the Foundation’s traditional technology and airmobile technology. In addition, they showed interviews with crew from the first aircraft carrier that had become prisoners of the Fortress years before. The news channel presenter then appeared, replacing the images and announcing a meeting between the Latin American countries and William Jus. Live. Billions of people were now watching. Mr. Jus got out of his seat and looked up. Herculano Valente, the former Euro-Portuguese MP, turned off his floating device and descended slowly to greet Jus. The cameras ed their handshake. Herculano’s was firm while Jus’s was embarrassed. He had to keep on looking up, since the old gentleman was twenty centimeters taller than the president of the Jus Foundation. In the image a reporter appeared asking them to leave and requesting that all cameras be removed. Pamela kept staring at the news screen. Robert with Kiryu, Melina, Ichizu, and her daughter, had seen the same scene. As they gathered together in the Fortress’s official library, they heard the sound of a body falling and the door opening. Emerson’s huge shape invaded the atmosphere. Perhaps he was the only one on board who hadn’t yet heard that Melina’s cavalry had arrived. His desperation had led him to hug Ichizu and his daughter without realizing he could hurt them. At this moment, the policeman who was guarding the door got up and pointed his rifle at Emerson. “Herculano, what a surprise,” Jus’s weak voice repeated for the third time. “I still haven’t thanked you, Jus. If it weren’t for your assistance, I’d still be in Europe. I now have new friends. My experience and knowledge of the old world are important for the new leaders,” Herculano said calmly. Behind the two men, the of the Latin American delegation were seated on spacious sofas while bottrays served them drinks from different parts of the world. “New leaders,” Jus repeated, hardly moving his lips.

“Of the many mistakes you have made, this was one of the worst. Not for us, but for the Foundation itself. From now on, since you have been extremely weakened publicly, your only way out is to surrender, or in more noble words, resign as leader of the Foundation and introduce the new board of directors, my friends and me. You can decide whether you want to be recorded in human history as a megalomaniac or as a true saint who fulfilled his mission on earth,” Herculano said calmly, pointing his thumb at the smiling leaders behind him. William Jus was silent. His faith in a divine miracle was gone. His whole life was pouring through his fingers like water. Kishikawa stood alone among the ten-story building-sized intra-polished metal electrical generators in the basement of the Fortress. There was no sound although the generators were spinning millions of times a second to produce the energy that fueled the dream of a new world. The exaggerated ionization of the atmosphere around the generators made him shiver and a little nauseous. His plan was simple: a series of atomic destabilizers would collapse the entire structure. According to Foundation tests, the Fortress would simply fall like a stone. Kishikawa, having turned off his intercom so as to concentrate on his sabotage, was still unaware that the Latin American delegation had arrived. In fact, no one had ed him except General Löscher, who still hoped to negotiate with the new owners of world power. William F. Jus got up and walked over to the Latinos. Instead of using English, he addressed them in perfect and emotional Spanish. “Friends, my friends. I can say without any doubt that you know me better than this man does,” said William, indicating Herculano with his eyes. “This man became a persona non grata for the Foundation. He was expelled from the European Parliament. He wanted to divert funds. This man is an opportunist and is taking advantage of your good faith in order to carry out his personal revenge. Believe me!” William turned to Ketrin’s image on the adjacent multiscreen and asked her to locate the file with the record of Herculano’s last visit to the Foundation. Within seconds, Ketrin posted images of Herculano screaming in William Jus’s office on the main screen. “Son of a bitch! We had an agreement, Jus, and you broke it. I negotiated the non-refundable loan as well as the printing and distribution of more than twelve million posters, just like this one, in thirteen different languages. The Congress

of Free Europe gave me carte blanche, trusting that the project would be a success. I helped rejuvenate this campaign, I invested my career in it, and now I find this absurd number printed on my posters! The original should be 315597-81 and here it says 315597-91!” Jus asked Ketrin to repeat the recording several times. As he stared at the images satisfied, he forgot to look at the audience who was yawning and giggling. When he asked Ketrin to stop, he turned and was horrified by the lack of any reaction from the old leaders. Herculano was quiet. The Venezuelan prime minister got up, walked over to Jus and placed his right hand on his shoulder, as if he were preparing to advise a son. “Please, Mr. Jus. Herculano is here because he’s useful. He’s a diplomat and is perfect at his job. Please, we don’t have any time to waste. We have billions of people out there waiting to see an end to the charade you created. Please order the withdrawal of troops now. And don’t forget to bring Melina Evren with you to formalize the issue.” “The issue?” Mr. Jus objected, hardly able to reason. “Melina is our commanderin-charge, Mr. Jus. She should be the one to announce the transfer of power to the world.” Pamela and Phoenix, alone in the laboratory, were looking at each other. Pamela wanted to kiss Phoenix. She felt that her iration for the creature was a kind of sensual love. She recognized the feeling as a fundamental, procreative instinct. Everyone was ordered to stay on the main deck because a statement would be made to the world. It was Melina’s express request that Phoenix be there too. But Phoenix seemed to be expecting Pamela to say something. “Human history doesn’t end here,” Pamela whispered. “It starts”, Phoenix said smiling. The two women hugged and Phoenix’s body lost all shape and became slimy, wrapping Pamela in a plasmatic and luminous textured sack. Pamela’s clothes dissolved first and the light around her became less transparent. The bag turned egg-shape and floated for a few moments before disappearing into thin air. William Jus’s voice echoed not only on the Fortress’s main deck, but also on

more than a billion and a half multi-screens scattered throughout the world, in addition to conventional television channels and domestic stations. Never before had a global digital analog communication network been so complete. “It’s an historic moment. Our schools will it ...,” a worldwide silence was heard between one prayer and another. “As of today, the Jus Foundation has ceased to exist.” A few sighs and heartbeats broke the silence. “In its place, the Humanity Council is taking over. It’s led by representatives from today’s Latin American community who at this time will introduce immediate measures to establish the new world order.” The world drops silent. “Please, I ask you to pray with me,” Abdullah Malik requested, lying in a room where more than a dozen Catholic popes had already been martyred for the fate of Christendom. He had been listening to William F. Jus’s statement. He wished to kneel before the multiple table, strategically placed perpendicular to Mecca. And as he hadn’t done in any sincerity since his youth, he fervently prayed to Allah. Kishikawa, after connecting with the general, appeared on the main deck and took his place among the officers. ing what he had just done and on hearing about the Foundation’s peaceful withdrawal, his body began experiencing unusual symptoms. A slight nervous tic contracted the left side of his face every two seconds. He looked for Pamela but she wasn’t there. A cold sweat ed the nervous tic while the nausea caused by the static electricity in the basement was still torturing his esophagus. All this and Mr. Jus’s Christian prayer were undermining Kishikawa’s rational capacity. His right hand drew the long-range automatic pistol from its holster while his left hand grabbed the remote control under his jacket pocket to detonate the atomic destabilizers. “May God be among us, among the powerful, among the gods. How long will you unfairly judge and accept the heathen? Do justice to the poor and orphans; justify the afflicted and needy. Free the poor and impure; take them out of the hands of the heathen. They neither know nor understand; they walk in darkness. All the foundations of the earth tremble. Gods and children of the Most High! However, they will die like men and fall like any prince. Rise up, O God, judge

the earth, for Yours is the power of all nations.” A shot was heard. The floating cameras calculated the trajectory of the bullet and in less than a second showed Kishikawa being immobilized by Foundation soldiers. Other cameras hovered over William Jus to show his chest bleeding and his body falling backward. The world looked at what it didn’t yet understand. Two of the Latin American delegation turned on their floatation devices and carried Jus’s body, one on each side, keeping their arms stretched out as if they were hanging on a cross. Led by Emerson, they flew over the crowd toward the infirmary. On the way, Jus’s blood was spilling and dripping on the troops, on the crew, and even staining the lenses of the cameras that accompanied them to show these images to the world. They heard an explosion and then a second explosion. The Fortress tipped sideways fifteen degrees and began to spin slowly. In the background of the cameras aimed at Jus, the crowd could be seen falling in on itself and being carried away by the inertia of the downward movement. The chain reaction expected to occur in the other intra-polished metal generators didn’t happen. The system’s basic structure was programmed to resist entry into a black hole or the explosion of planet Earth. In all, there were only a few seconds of animal fear and terror among everyone present and the spectators. The Fortress automatically rose once again and Melina, still clinging to the observation deck wall, got up and gestured for the cameras to move closer. Kishikawa was immobilized face down on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back. Around him, the soldiers seemed to be taking turns kicking him, one kick per soldier. It was at this point that Pamela entered. To Kishikawa, she appeared illuminated. It was as though her white skin had been bathed in transparent oil. She came over to the samurai, lay down beside him, and kissed his bloody face. The soldiers moved away, frightened as the bodies on the ground merged and turned into light that vanished in an instant. Emerson held Jus’s head up, looked at his eyes, and tried to understand why he was now just a corpse with a shattered thorax. Millions of people had watched Jus’s death. His fatal destiny had benefited no one. With him alive, the world would have had a chance but now history would simply talk about a revolution

culminating in the death of the past. What bothered Emerson most was that Jus’s gaze held the first glimmer of a different future. It was a look of sadness, of deep disappointment, of nothing at all. “We are announcing to the world that the attack on William Jus’s life was a personal act by one of his soldiers, Commander Kishikawa of the Japanese Navy. This same man also tried to sabotage the Sky Fortress, but his lack of knowledge about airmobile technology prevented him from causing any further damage,” said Melina. She took a deep breath and continued. “I am now speaking to planet Earth. As of today, we are no longer a divided people. There will no longer be rich and poor; there will be no longer be exploitation of one human being over another. The Humanity Council will not be an institution that takes advantage of societies. The Humanity Council will promote the distribution of airmobile technology to each city and each village. No pricing. No tax. We’re going to stop using monetary reference methods or financial systems. We are returning to the reality of the right to a full life. If you produce, you’ll have the right to the production of others in proportion to your consumption capacity. If you don’t produce, you’ll have the right to learn how to produce. If you’re not interested in producing, you can live on the fringes of society off the remnants of the prosperity of others. The Humanity Council will be present in every city, every village. There will be no more hunger. There will be no more children without homes or without education. In two years, we’ll be a planet of ten billion happy people integrated into a single system. In twenty years, we’ll be fifteen billion people, here, on the moon, on Mars and on its satellites. In fifty years, we’ll be inhabiting the entire solar system. The totalitarianism of human dignity is hereby instituted. Our only limit is the universe!” Soldiers arrived like school children and stood before their serious teacher—in this case General Löscher—who was watching over Jus’s body. For the first time, her men saw her with a curved back and a lost, feminine expression on her face. “General, an as yet unidentified phenomenon has just occurred. Technical partner Pamela and Captain Kishikawa have disappeared. While they were embracing, they turned into a blinding light and vanished before our eyes.” “Where’s Phoenix?”

“General, the last time she was seen, she was with Pamela. There’s no record of her presence on the aircraft.” Löscher stood upright once again and was taller than her soldiers. She then donned her white beret, a symbol of the Jus Foundation. “Ladies and gentlemen, we must go and pay tribute to the new leaders of the world. If we’re still alive it means the war’s not over.” Emerson listened to her words. He couldn’t believe them. “General, I note a tone of vengeance in your voice. Your soldiers are no longer following you. Melina has made a speech.” “Mr. Emerson, what makes me good at my profession is knowing just who the enemy is. I’m not an old-fashioned patriot, I’m proud of my mercenary career. At this precise moment the enemy isn’t Melina or the Humanity Council. The enemy is the same as before: Phoenix. You don’t need to know how to put two and two together to realize this creature was involved in the couple’s disappearance, or that her magical or miraculous form only served to misuse the usefulness or uselessness of human life for her own purposes.” “I know Phoenix, General,” Emerson objected.

“You don’t know her, mister,” the general concluded as she left Jus’s wake. Emerson, Ichizu, her daughter, Robert, and Kiryu remained behind. Gerard, having stayed invisibly by Jus’s side since the arrival of the airmobile cavalry, now called the Humanity Council, decided to act and followed the general. He understood that with Jus’s death, the Foundation and everything he had chosen to believe in his life had disappeared. He realized the truth of Melina, Robert and Kiryu’s betrayal. He decided to stop being a toy in the hands of the one he used to love. He tore off his clerical collar and threw it into the first garbage chute he came across on his route, oblivious to his duty to render the last rites to the corpse who had previously been the Jus Foundation. The collar descended as it was sucked out by a continuous flow of air down through dark ducts until it fell into the clean sewer system developed by Phoenix that would be part of every human settlement in a few months. Clean sewage

was an atomic fission reactor, somewhat archaic terminology to explain the transformation of any solid substance into light, or in more technical , vehicular energy, as the biocrystallized brain’s artificial intelligence called the new era of airmobile technology. Vehicular energy represented final control of the cohesion between electrons and photons in of the dissipation of waves or particles. Its internal control for socio-economic use was possible if in some way a certain flux of consciousness was maintained in vehicular energy state. A flux of consciousness tried and tested by Phoenix; a symbiosis that was possible exclusively because of the most important phenomenon in Nature, life: life that Phoenix didn’t totally possess but which was revealed in the form of sexual desire between Pamela and Kishikawa. Lieutenant Löscher’s opinion was correct. The couple was useful for Phoenix’s purposes. It was getting dark in the Fortress, causing the sea to turn black and smooth under the gigantic airship. Meanwhile, a new day was beginning in the rest of the world. Already before dawn some investors had converted their credits into durable goods, buying real estate and aircars. They still felt rich. The vast majority were surprised to find that their investments had become a mere reference. The banks, now totally interdependent, were no longer depositories of securities, but rather only intermediary managers. The owner of a bakery had the right to buy as many kilograms of flour he needed according to the number of his customers, while the flour industry had the right to buy grain according to its production average. The world had not changed in its substance. Biocrystal brains continued to manage the trade of products, the difference was that they now had the power to decide what, how and how much would be produced. Profit would no longer be measured by its monetary or financial result, but by the production capacity of each individual. Suddenly, hundreds of thousands of people, simple speculators, intermediaries in the system, were poor, and when they accessed their s, they would receive a notification advising them to enroll in courses or to discover new forms of production. Suddenly too, hundreds of millions of businessmen and professionals, service providers and assistants reviewed their s and discovered that they could each buy a yacht, but since there weren’t enough yachts or even enough sea for everyone, they could choose among thousands of

available production items instead. The State was no longer a third person, it was the system in action, which made the exchange between humans possible. From one day to the next, debt no longer existed for anyone who produced anything for society. From a clever twisted wire ring to a large biodegradable organic plastic or transparent aluminum industry, variants of intra-polished metal technology and fourdimensional vectors, everything was a computable record for biocrystal brains. On the same day, the food industry was invited to participate in the production of nutrients to be distributed to billions of people. Experts from around the world received invitations from biocrystallized brains to build roads and farms, and to create cities and schools in which such symbols of civilization were uncommon. Fascinated yet distrustful, crowds rushed toward stores in order to avoid having to wait for a service that no longer guaranteed 24-hour delivery. The most optimistic predictions were that any stock of goods would be depleted within a week. However, the most important thing was that people would still have more credits to buy things, even if their patience was exhausted as they waited for levels of production to stabilize and adjust to the gigantic demand never seen before in all of human history. People who had never bought more than four rolls of toilet paper a month wanted to buy twenty but bio-crystal brains wouldn’t allow it. The terror of rationing gripped society and, before placing containment troops in the streets, Melina Evren had had to interrupt William F. Jus’s funeral to urge the world’s population to calm down and continue living their normal lives. “If there aren't any green aircars, why not order a yellow one? Or why not wait thirty days to get a green or blue one? If you don't have Coke, try Pepsi!” After this announcement, in addition to supermarkets attacked by crowds, cartoonists and animators were successful in the world media by showing guillotined heads of the "royal family" of the airmobile industry. At the same time, images of operating industries, trucks of food and merchandise, were interspersed with images of starving populations returning home with bags full of groceries. Graphic interfaces demonstrated reduction in

demand and growth in production in detail. The world had a new face, the face of new technology.

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Greece Typhron stood up and looked out over the Mediterranean from his virtual window, a patch of blue in the azure. His dream was to buy an apartment by the sea but his role as istrative and logistics manager for the Taunus grocery store chain would never earn him enough. However, it was a sunny day and the first shipment would arrive in just four hours. He decided to go to the beach and opened up his screen to see if he had enough money to buy a meal in some luxury. He had always dreamed of finding the perfect woman alone on the beach and inviting her to lunch. For all of us hope is the last thing we lose. There was an urgent warning on his screen. He imagined it would be a charge but was surprised to read that, according to the new calculations carried out by order of the Humanity Council on eliminating the previous credit system, individually–he had seven times more monthly purchasing power as of that day. He couldn’t believe it. However, there was a second warning. His presence was required immediately at a meeting to organize new measures for supplying the grocery chain. A 150% growth in demand was expected by the end of the afternoon! He jumped back with his hands on his head and yelled for the news. The screen opened on the latest images of Melina at William F. Jus’s funeral. The body would be incinerated in a few minutes and his image, as well as his entire personality, would be on display in New York, synthesized by a biocrystal brain that would think it was Jus himself. In this way, the Christian population would be able to venerate the last martyr of the century. That year would be the first of many of material prosperity. Typhron looked at his credit again and asked to see his purchasing options. There was an apartment on the coast that he could buy over two years and own with 20% of his monthly credit or he could rent it with only 5% of the same credit. The biocrystal brain recommended purchasing so as to avoid future speculation on real estate. It also reminded him that the property would not be included in his inheritance. After his death, the property would be auctioned. It was a difficult decision for Typhron, but he was only 50 years old. What was 20%? Twilight of destiny Melina Evren had grown old with Gerard. Her heart had yielded to natural love and she had become a mother. “Gerard, I miss William. He’ll be turning 35 the day after tomorrow.”

Gerard reached out with his wrinkled hand and rested it on Melina’s knee. “If the world no longer needed us, who would tell us? Our son?” “Yes. Our son. You even chose his name!” “He likes to be called William the just. It feels like a part of human history. He’s not ours anymore. He’s up there somewhere. That star there, right?” “No, the closest one is bigger.” “We’re the virus of the universe,” Gerard said, before coughing and clearing his throat to light a cigarette. “Will the day ever come when I miss your disgusting habit?” Melina asked between bouts of Gerard’s coughing. Kiryu had returned to Japan fifteen years earlier. She had bought an offshore property and was living alone among her greenhouse flowers. Her small artificial island floated above the Japanese territorial sea along with a hundred other artificial islands with residences, clubs, bars, restaurants and hospitals. It was an entire city on the sea. Robert had been gone for ten years. The world was gone. Changes had begun shortly after Phoenix’s disappearance. The climate had changed over the entire planet. It had become as regular as clockwork. The very rotation of the earth was becoming more and more precise. Each year the summer solstice took place over a few milliseconds. It was possible to adjust the clock with sunrise and sunset. The reason for all this? A zillion theories emerged year after year. She didn’t know either, she just felt. She felt it! Ichizu’s daughter ran beside her father on the deck of the Fortress, which had been transformed into a large private yacht while more than 60% of its previous structure had been donated to other businesses. Emerson was aging with dignity. He was lean, manly and tanned; a nostalgic but happy widower. He had never understood why Ichizu had committed suicide. She had seemed to be a woman of apparent balance and sincerity. “Dad, I’m going back to Earth tonight. Are you sure you want to stay here?” “Honey, I don’t know how to live among humans any more. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps? Are you going to keep wondering whether it was your fault? I knew my mother. You weren’t the guilty one. She simply decided her life was already complete. I understood that and you should too, please.” Emerson stopped running and leaned against the railing separating him from the ocean’s horizon. He waited for his breathing to stabilize so he could speak to his daughter without panting. “Darling, maybe my choice is to die alive. I want to be constantly aware. Every second. I’m not interested in living among people, being distracted, keeping up with the latest theories about weather on Earth or the mundane politics of space colonies. I just want to exist to feel. And I feel good here looking at the sea.” His eyes were lost on the horizon. His daughter kissed him on the cheek and left. “The sea,” repeated old Emerson once again before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Gaia Temple “The moon is a moth flying around me,” the girl whispered in a trance and in a lower tone than her childish throat could produce. With their heads down, the Gaia Temple monks dressed the girl-goddess with their eyes closed. World hunger was over and opportunities and individual choices were as endless as the stars in the sky. Nevertheless, the mystery of faith continued to grow stronger with each prosperous year. Religion was mixed with multidisciplinary cults and human leisure time was filled by contemplating about infinity. Somehow, the absence of immediate problems provoked a social movement of thanks and praise to the benefactors of humanity. The name “William Jus” was confused with the figure of Jesus himself. His temple in New York received as many or more visits than the Temple of Jesus in Rio de Janeiro. Both had virtual reproductions made perfect for the eyes and ears of pilgrims. The Gaia Temple was a novelty. Scientists and holists bewildered by changes in the Earth’s environment had inaugurated it. It was as if Earth were grateful for the elimination of pollution from its atmosphere and its waters. Cleaning reactors, common throughout the world, had transformed all organic and nonorganic waste into light that dissipated on its own. There were no hurricanes, snowfalls or heat waves. Deserts were being occupied by forests, rivers teemed

with fish, and whales were seen by the thousands, to the point that their sport hunting was allowed. Winters and summers began and ended on exact dates with variations of only a few hours each year. The planet’s movement was adjusted to the ideal calendar and leap years were no longer expected. Paradise was revealed in the eyes of humans who had children with longer childhoods and an onset of puberty around the second decade of life as well as a longevity index of 250 years. It was too great a miracle for mankind not to bother keeping up with so many improvements. Social problems were limited to personal or psychological dramas, or to religious or ideological conflicts that filled hospitals, mental treatment centers, sports clubs, musical shows and religious temples, but that emptied the prisons and promoted complete leisure to any military or police institution. Spanish, English, Arabic and Chinese were lingua franca¸ adored like all other languages. The Gaia Temple stood out in the midst of all that and tried to satisfy its followers. Their story began when they found a baby girl on the beach during a storm. Her color was the color of sand and for a long time they called her sand girl. Her grayish-white skin frightened fishermen and bathers. She was a fish shaped like a person, asleep and moving as if she were dreaming. As the rough sea threatened to drown her with its waves, she woke up, felt the cold water against the hot sand, opened her dark eyes, looked around her, and saw people who didn’t know what to do. She tried to get up, rolled over, and crawled toward a man who ran to catch her. She smiled like a child smiles and the crowd regained consciousness. The sea calmed down and the sun came out from behind the clouds. “If she’s only a child, she must be hungry and cold!” “Who would abandon a child like this!” “Her parents will have lost her.” “What parents, eh?” “Hey, the little boy likes me!” “Little girl, silly! You can tell the difference, can’t you?” The small crowd took care of the child and began to live around her and for her.

They took her to the nearest beach house to bathe her. A woman who had recently given birth offered her generous breasts and the girl drank human milk between moans and sighs, interpreted by the adults as a sign of pleasure. That night, twenty-five adults slept in the same house as the baby girl. The next night, forty adults crowded into the beach house. On the third night, fifty people stayed outside the house. In a week, the sand girl was already known around the planet. There was no record of her birth anywhere. A girl abandoned under such conditions was unthinkable at that time. “It’s immoral,” the humans said. “Impossible,” said the biocrystal brains. A pretty, perfect, parentless girl. The gaia hypothesis arose without parents or founders. From conversations and comments made, it was difficult to know what was true. The girl was a gift of nature to humanity. As long as the girl was happy, humanity would be happy. Investments rained down and a large and sumptuous temple was built. The bather who had held the baby for the first time didn’t want to take on its istration and decided to entrust the technological care and maintenance of the new institution to whoever was interested. The first person to appear was a man with unlimited planet-wide credit. His name was Robert Mills and he was one of the fathers of the aircar. His presence among the sand girl’s witnesses brought prestige and respect to the movement. Instead of the obscurity of thousands of sects that were created by the minute wherever human culture existed, the Gaia Temple became a different story amid the provincial monotony of daily media. Robert had an intuition: an incredible but redeeming intuition. The girl was the rebirth of Phoenix. He had recognized her. The speed of light was still a challenge to science. The recomposition of matter in its original state required the maintenance of some integrity of a kind of consciousness. In other words, sending a spacecraft four light-years away had become a possibility, but the classic problem of reaching the speed of light or even higher speeds and then returning to the initial state was beyond what human consciousness could bear. Not even the most powerful biocrystal brain could. However, vehicular energy was a fact. Each substance transformed into light returned to its original state in proportion to the energy produced in the process. Sending a crew of hundreds of men to a distant planet was, in fact, a teleportation of billions of kilometers. Calculations explained how it worked but

the mystery remained as to why it worked. It was no wonder that crews and technical teams prayed in ritual ceremonies before every expedition. They’d pray for an abstract consciousness that would allow the integration of organic matter. They didn’t know what it was and they didn’t ask but the force was present. The non-technical population had a slight idea that space travel was possible because it used the same technology as the city sewers where waste was transformed into light. There were times when suicide victims would announce their own death in the sewers but after clarification that it was possible to rescue dissipated, non-visible light and recover old corpses alive and mixed with excrement, this custom soon faded out. Light and shit, in the sense of nothing, became almost inseparable synonyms. The legend of post-mortem phenomena also became a joke when adherents told them to turn to the Light. The mystery of recombination remained. How could dissipated light maintain residual memory that allowed solid atomic recombination to remain in the sphere of human perception? And what was being recombined? Would it be the same object or would it be a different one? This was just one of many mysteries and it was for this reason that mysticism would reign hand in hand with the highest degree of technology achieved up to then by humans. As a result of abundance, ignorance and popular idolatry grew. What other name would be given to this type of luminous memory if not God? Was that the beginning of the reality of all things or the end of randomness? The end of contingent existence. “God?” The sand girl of flesh and blood was speaking ironically to Robert. “God is me.” She laughed as she ran and jumped on her three-year-old legs. Dressed in a yellow cloak, she was running after a robot-insect, a soft, harmless toy made of living plastic and with a will of its own. There was also an organic cat, which detested it and spent its days chasing the small artificial animal. The difference was that the cat got tired, fed and aged, while the robot-insect became faster and more experienced every day. For a slowly growing girl-goddess, who after about six years since they found her was still a three-year-old girl and who would reach puberty at thirty-five to live almost a thousand years, a normal life wasn’t enough.

A small vibration began in Robert’s right temporal lobe causing him to divert his attention from the girl and connect his visual screen to delight in the image of Kiryu, the most beautiful woman in the world, whose old age was hidden from the present. “Kiryu!” “Robert. I don’t like missing you. How is she?” Robert looked at the girl who was being entertained by the cat and sighed. “Happy, as always. Nothing worries her. She’s certain the world exists because she wants it that way. And who are we to doubt it?” “Today the ocean is calmer than ever. There are times when I believe, like you, that something has gone wrong here. I look at the ocean aware that I can’t understand everything about water movement but something’s missing—” Kiryu ran her wrinkled hands through her red kimono. “Do you the volcano that erupted last year? It scared everyone, didn’t it?” “Scared and marveled. Improbability and adventure are still human pleasures―” “That volcano reacted at the exact moment that the cat scratched the girl. She didn’t seem to be in much pain but she put her finger in her mouth and was delighted to see the glint of her own blood.” Robert approached the screen. ‘It’s in the records. Blood here, a sporadic volcanic eruption thousands of miles away. Fever, an Antarctic summer. An insult, an earthquake. We can’t deny these facts, Kiryu!” “I’m not feeling well, Robert.” The girl approached with the cat in her tiny hands and looked at Kiryu with a knowing smile. Robert caught her on his lap. “Hi, grandma!” the girl said with a guileless voice. Eight light years ago, a colonization ship was repeating the path of the first probe and appeared out of nowhere in an explosion of light. Twelve kilometers long and made of intra-polished, self-aware metal, it carried a crew of nearly two thousand immigrants. Human eyes were open inside the ship to observe the

painful and bloody decomposition of each of them, an improbable sign of recombination. “You have to love me, Mom. Everybody has to love me. If not, I get distracted and bad things happen. I don’t want bad things to happen.” The cat jumped onto the girl’s shoulder and she clung to Robert’s large, soft neck. He hugged the girl tightly. Kiryu felt a strong wind through her and saw the sea churning like she hadn’t seen it in years. She was afraid. “We love you too. Very much.” The girl turned to the screen which displayed a life-size three-dimensional image of Kiryu and smiled. Eight light years from Earth the crew felt sunburned. Their skin burned, but they were alive. The message of arrival to the home planet had been sent. “Recombination complete with slight superficial abrasion. Boarding the planet in less than twelve hours. We have arrived safely.” Robert looked at the girl who was distracted again. This time she was concerned about the cat, which was being chased by the robot-insect. He let her climb down off him and looked at Kiryu. The sea around her was calm again. A slight breeze made the Japanese woman cross her arms before shivering.

THE END

[1] UVC: Universal Virtual Computer. [2] “Light fabric held by the forehead and falling down the back.” In History of Religions, JB Bergua, Notes, 541. Ediciones Ibéricas and LCL, 1996 [3] Male geishas.