Farima: An Afrofuturist Sci-Fi Adventure (The Homo Maximus Saga Book 1) Page 4

  “Of course we don’t Khalil, but a secret project—this Project Farima that you bring up every meeting is not the answer.” Councilwoman Adams says. “I have expressed my many concerns for this project that you have kept hidden from even the Council. You have the right to do that as an autonomous citizen, but not in the name of the Worker’s Council. So I am not obligated to support your attempt to contain Dr. Greenheart’s life work. Whatever this Project Farima is, it will not supplant Project Maximus.”

  Khalil shudders at the rejection. How dare they? He knows his rights! That’s not the issue. The thought of Natia being in harm’s way sinks Khalil’s heart, but he’s enjoying their competitive rivalry. The pupil who is outpacing the Master.

  He clenches his teeth.

  Do they think global powers will sit by and let us build utopia? I still have much to teach Natia.

  “I agree with her.” Councilman Olina speaks. “There’s nothing I’ve seen you present to us Khalil that would permit the Worker’s Council to support your project. Not without the direct knowledge of the Collective.”

  Fools! They’ll have every Node in New Manden overran with their complacency. Khalil thinks. He forces a false smile. “Listen, Councilmen and Councilwomen, New Manden right now is a turtle playing defense inside its shell. Protecting itself from the spears of warmongers, like those in the KWR. But that won’t last forever. We have an unpopular governance system in the rest of the world. The greatest of the Founders, like ghosts of dread, frown on us right now. If you don’t think we have guns aimed at us, then you’re being foolish. Those against me should be fortunate they’re not here in the flesh.” Khalil exhales, the veins pop from his neck. He clenches his fist in anger.

  Acacia notices Khalil’s dress shirt fading from a dark blue to an ominous red. The sensors from the ingrained electronics in his clothes change their color based on his mood. The glass panels in the solarium also dim, casting much of the room in a dusky amber glow.

  “If we don’t act now, we will regret it later, you may only get to act this once.” Khalil speaks in a brooding tone. The base in his voice bounces off the walls. He gazes into the eyes of each member of the Council and holds it until they become uncomfortable and look away. “The Farima project must be private because of the endeavor. You don’t tell your enemy you’re building a weapon to defeat them and post the schematics across the AugNet!”

  “Khalil drop it.” Councilman Aloomis can’t take it anymore. “We’ve been friends since the war. We’ve fought alongside each other so trust me; I know how you feel. I cannot go along with this either. I cannot do that to Natia, and you shouldn’t want to limit the direction of her project out of fear. You haven’t forgotten that you raised her after what happened to her parents have you?”

  I knew he’d use that against me. Pulling at my heartstrings, eh Desta. Khalil ignores the question and raises his chin in defiance. “I call for a vote then, we’ll see where everyone stands. As Councilman, I am empowered to force a Council vote on this.”

  Inaudible murmurs and exhales rumble from within the group. The Councilmembers lift their Orunmila’s the way children stomp their feet when it’s bedtime. Acacia strides over to Khalil and pulls him away from the crowd. In a low, hushed voice she says, “You shouldn’t have pressed it. I could’ve told you that you don’t have the votes.”

  “It’s a test, Acacia. I have yet to use my power as Councilman to see how much support I have and don’t have. Up to this point, it’s only been backroom talks and hushed meetings to feel people out. This is a more official step.”

  “But to what end?”

  “I have an idea, Acacia. An idea that when executed, they won’t say no to me again.” Khalil looks up into Acacia’s eyes; his pupils are swimming in mischief. The results come in as a buzz on Khalil’s Orunmila. He taps the HUD and notes the final tally. “Seven oppose and five support. Meaning there won’t be the required majority to green light Project Farima.” Khalil stands staring at those who he knows are against him. He smiles knowing the master outsmarts the students even in defeat. No single shot ever wins a war.

  “Will there be anything else Councilman?” Olina says with a snarky grin.

  “No, that is concludes our meeting.” Khalil punches a series of buttons on his HUD with haste and the augmented images of the Councilmembers vanish.

  “The idiots know nothing!”

  Khalil paces back and forth around the room before stopping. The light from the glass panels warm his brown skin, bathing him in self-righteous glory. The contacts in his eyes are now of a dark crimson complexion as his mind burns with fire. He notices Acacia on the opposite side of the room standing firm, ready to take his order. Her will to learn from him is as well-formed as her body. Without the rebelliousness of Natia.

  “Confusion,” Khalil says with a twisted smile to Acacia as his mind shines bright like a bulb. “I have an intriguing lesson to teach you Acacia if you have the drive to learn it without worrying about the consequences”.

  “I am here for you Khalil. Point me in the right direction and I will execute the task. But what is Project Farima anyway?” Acacia asks.

  “You will know soon enough.”

  Chapter 4

  Change of Plans

  Node One—Manay City, 2082—Isle of Manden—The Ark of Endonis

  “I watched you on the AugNet Natia. You were amazing up there. You debunked every one of his attacks.” Natia speaks with Adan via her Orunmila as she exits the Ebony Coliseum. She charts a route for the Ark of Endonis, after making it through throngs of allies. Adan’s image manifests in real-time now in augmented form.

  Natia knows Adan is correct because dozens of articles flow in on the AugNet by the second. One headline reads, “Endonis Maintains Its Grip on Social Power.”

  While another says, “Dr.Greenheart Says You Will Live Forever. The Truth About Homo Maximus.”

  Then Natia stops at another headline titled, “The People Who Can’t Wait for Project Maximus Delays.”

  The one that Natia bookmarks to read later is lengthy and written by her favorite journalist. The article is titled, “Welcome to the Age of Endonis: Immortality For All.”

  “I became uncomfortable up there when he brought up the Battle of Charlotte, Adan. You know how that day gives me mood swings. To lose my grandparents who I never got the chance to meet. My mom always spoke of them, even in the personal documents Khalil has given to me. My mom loved her parents so much. But this antagonism between us and the NAS turned my mother into an orphan. That’s the primary reason I stay out of politics. This project Adan, Project Maximus, will allow Mandenites to never have to worry about losing a loved one again.”

  Natia fights to cool her fiery elation as her heart races. “Think of the use cases! The media have already dubbed it, ‘The Age of Endonis.’

  “Yea, I saw that article! It’s crazy, people used to think humans living hundreds of years wasn’t possible.” He grins, “you handled it well. He knew what buttons to press, and you flipped it back onto him. That’s why I love you Natia.” Adan can’t stop beaming.

  “And that’s why I love talking to you instead of looking at your augmented form.”

  They share a laugh. Adan raises his palm to her face—the A.R. image moving through her chocolate skin.

  Natia reaches the Ark of Endonis and is so overjoyed, she misses the growing turbulence in the square just outside the entrance.

  “We’ll chat later Adan.” Natia nods and Adan nods back before his image melts away. Natia closes her eyes and raises her chin into the air, embracing the warming afternoon climate. The storm rain from earlier is gone and the fire inside her burned the river of doubt from her spirit.

  Everything is working as designed. Natia thinks until she sees Acacia standing next to Khalil as they exit the Ark. I can’t stand that woman.

  Khalil and Acacia stop at the top of the steps awaiting her return. Around them, dozens of bomb squad and medical personnel sprint in ev
ery direction. Now when Natia looks up again, four aerial ambulances hover above her preparing to take fly to the nearest hospital. It is as if a blanket of chaos coated itself over her perfect day.

  “What in the hell happened here?” Natia darts towards Khalil who at eighty-five years old is decades her elder. Due to anti-aging genetic treatment developed by her, he looks only ten years older than her.

  “Terrorist attack by a Class Three Deep Cover Android. We’re still working on the details to figure out the source of—”

  I don’t remember asking you Acacia, Natia thinks before adding, “another android, you don’t think this attack is because of the Forum do you?”

  Khalil steps between the two of them. “It’s as she said Natia. We have limited information right now. For security reasons we’d want to get somewhere more private agreed?”

  Natia looks at Khalil and back up at Acacia, who stands eye level with her. “Yes, that makes the most sense,” Natia speaks with a collected calm without breaking eye contact with Acacia.

  Khalil and Acacia turn and begin walking towards the entrance doors. Khalil looks back and says, “Oh, by the way, you did an amazing job at the Great Forum.”

  A knot develops in Natia’s stomach as she follows them inside to see what has happened.

  Natia, Khalil, and Acacia stand alone in a glass elevator that soars to the top of the Ark. The setting sun casts its orange glow over the Isle as the life of night buzzes. The rushing sensation of the lift causes her to lose track of time. She thinks of the days before she met Adan. Back then she and her best friend Araba took lifts like this to college gatherings. The kind of gatherings held by another stuffy Founder’s grandkid who had too much time on his hands. The kind with too many people, alcohol, and worker androids while lacking adults. She had to develop the skill of avoiding distractions to get work done.

  I hope no one was injured. No matter what happens, it will not let this distract me from completing Homo Maximus. Natia looks to her right, Khalil gazes out the window as if in deep contemplation. His eyes appear to be tracking three small Mandenite aircraft buzzing into Manden airspace on a diagonal arc. “So I see your shirt is red—why are you so upset right now?”

  Khalil continues peering out of the translucent elevator, taking a moment to respond. Acacia stands behind him, draping over his body like an ominous shadow. “Look at everything that’s happening. This recent attack, social opinion of me… it can be infuriating.”

  “With Project Maximus up and running, we’ll complete Phase Five soon. It won’t be long until we have the first evolved Human living in our world, Homo Maximus. We can begin screening the first Mandenite’s who are near death for brain-consciousness transfer into their new bodies. Your social standing within the Collective will go up after that, I bet.”

  “Yes, about that.” The elevator stops at Khalil’s office on the top floor. They walk to a terrace looking out on the sprawling city of Natia’s birth. “You know Natia, I’ve taken care of you and watched over you like I was your father myself since the day of the attack on our embassy. Even after the Battle of Charlotte and everything that took place with your grandparents, I made friends and enemies, making sure your family was protected.”

  And here we go. Natia shifts an uncomfortable knot.

  “I marvel at the potential of Project Maximus. Directed evolution of humankind to allow our people to live into the hundreds of years on average. Breakthroughs that will give the sick and dying the ability to live on in a new body, effective immortality. But who will feed these advanced people? Where will they live with such an explosion in population density? Perhaps we just create more Jenas? How will this impact geopolitics? I mean, many questions need answering Natia. Global-scale questions. But before you answer, look at this—”

  Khalil presses a sequence of buttons on his Orunmila and a real-time moving image flashes from his forearm and fills a quarter of the terrace. “This is what the interrogation room looks like.”

  Natia sees a room covered in rubble and wide black scorch marks where fires have burned. Dozens of fragments of android body parts lay sprayed across the room.

  “Natia these D.C.I. androids, these Trojans, have infiltrated the ECIC several times now as you know. Acacia and I are on one accord here as it’s clear that we are under attack. And if we’re under attack, then we’re at war.” Khalil’s eyes bulge with a twisted pleasure at having declared that.

  “Hold on… what!?!” Natia chuckles and shakes her head. She pivots and places her back towards the two. “That’s some leap, Khalil. I agree the targeting of the ECIC is undeniable. War is a reach even for you. Who are we at war with now?” She asks.

  Khalil, ignoring her sarcasm states, “anyone who targets New Manden.”

  “The Collective will disagree.” She rebuts.

  He goes on, “militia security discovered a spy android attempting to compromise our servers. The android sought to access key intelligence the night before the Great Forum. Knowing this has taken place twice in other ECIC buildings, I’m certain a direct policy campaign will garner support.”

  “I know where this leads.” Natia turns to Khalil. “The first Homo Maximus won’t be a puppet. Let’s prove our enemies wrong by doing what they don’t want us to do. New Manden is not a nation built for war, and neither is Homo Maximus.”

  Khalil forces a pained smile. “I’ve taught you many things Natia, but the Principle of Battle is the one you reject the most. Do you know what happens to countries not capable of defending themselves as a superpower? You’ve had a comfortable life compared to that of Founders like me. Your generation has been raised in what we’d call opulence when I was your age. No Mandenite wants for basic necessities for survival because it’s provided by The Collective.”

  “Where’s this going?” Natia asks.

  “You don’t know how fast society can fall apart when comfort zones collapse. I’d like to prevent that—with your help.”

  The horrifying videos and pictures Natia has seen of the Second Revolutionary War flood her mind. She remembers the disfigured bodies and blown-out buildings. She gazes out into the darkening city once more and sees the soft round building tops. They stick out like white cones in a web of commotion. “You’re not still on SAR are you Khalil? I’m troubled by your words.”

  “Trust me, my thoughts are my own Natia,” Khalil replies. “Look, you’ve had to deal with the Forum and people like Justice Samuels. I’ve had my own problems. Emotions are high, but I’m not as delusional as you may think. I remember when I met your grandfather. I remember that night very well. When he committed to crushing the Knights of the White Rose. Your grandfather understood self-sacrifice. Hell, your entire family has sacrificed so much for New Manden. That’s why you’re so popular.” Khalil stops at the last syllable as if he’s swallowed a ball.

  A wave of emotions surges through Natia’s body. “Stop using the memory of my family to fit your agenda, Khalil. You may have raised me like a daughter, but I’m not your child. I’m not ten or fifteen anymore either. The Collective supports me because they trust me, and I give value to the nation. What’s the value in war, Khalil? I’ve seen the videos, the best way to keep New Manden from looking like that is to stay as far away from war as possible.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.” Khalil drops back. “But I will point out that preparation in remembrance of history is not madness.”

  Natia sighs and looks out at the city and imagines the throngs of Jena’s amassing for miles in every direction. The Isle of Manden always teems with life during a Great Forum. “You taught me that New Manden is the primordial egg of freedom. That its yoke is solidarity, autonomy, collaboration, among others. So the only way I agree is if the people show solidarity with me. I am within the window to restructure the referendum to add your project Khalil, but I will still control what’s included and what isn’t.”

  Khalil shakes his head. “Project Farima stays under my control.

/>   “Then this will not work.”

  Khalil paces for a moment and decides, “we’ll let the Worker’s Council choose.”

  “That works for me.”

  Natia Greenheart, Khalil Buhari and Acacia Reed stand in the solarium as the Worker’s Council reappears. Natia recognizes familiar faces, people she’s spoken with in private. Many of whom are also followers on LyfeZone who have had more than a few private chats with her expressing their support. Natia inspects the faces of the others who either have a history with Khalil or who openly ignore her approaches. Noting their awkward positions with their backs turned slightly against her, their agenda is clear.

  Natia breezes to the opposite side of the room, away from Khalil and Acacia to express her subtle dissent. Khalil wants me to add his project and control mine. What’s his endgame? Security and protection are words that lead to conflict. These attacks do present a problem that can’t be ignored though.

  “Welcome back Council members.” Khalil breaks the silence by at once, taking the initiative.

  “Back?” Natia scratches her head, looking at Khalil.

  “Ah yes, while you were convincing the members of the Collective to continue funding your Project… I was breaking bread with the Council here.”

  “More like attempting to coerce us.” Councilman Michael Olina speaks first.

  He didn’t tell me he had called an emergency meeting today. What are you up to, Khalil? Natia monitors her eccentric mentor with caution.