Bill Larantz stepped out of a door accompanied by three, armed security officers. They turned left down the long corridor, walking methodically slow. He noticed the dark blue stretch uniforms they were wearing, which had a bright-yellow triangular shaped stripe across the front, centered by a large chrome star - the symbol for the World Federation.
"What's it like to work as a security officer?" He asked cheerfully, hoping to somehow break the solemn atmosphere of his companions. But it was to no avail as they didn't respond nor even acknowledge that he had spoken.As they marched along Bill surveyed the faces of the officers and found that they looked straight ahead intently but saw nothing. It was as if they were locked inside their heads.
The corridor was oval shaped and dimly lit with neon lighting that streamed along each side behind glass covers. The walls were faced with a gloomy blue-gray material, which was disturbing to look at.
They quickly approached a large four section portal at the end of the corridor, next to which was located an elaborate keypad. The lead officer deftly typed a code in order to gain access to the entrance. The large door opened up by the two top sections separating and moving up while the bottom sections separated and moved down respectively. Passing through the opening they entered a spacious white colored chamber at the center of which was an enormous console. Surrounding the control panel was a bright florescent-green field, which extended up from the floor about eight feet.
They continued on heading for the green field. The doorway behind them closed with a surprising boom giving him a bit of a start. He could feel his heart flutter for a moment and then it quickly recovered when he realized what it was. Upon entering the field a large three-dimensional head appeared before them sporting a very menacing look. The group took a few steps closer and then stopped abruptly.
"Bill Larantz please step forward," a loud voice blasted from some unseen speaker system. Bill complied a little weak in the knees.
"I am Holax Maddan, Chief Arbiter West-zone district, World Federation," the voice continued fatefully. "Case WF-SH-448xx7 Sentence hearing commencement 4:45:00pm-07/24/2110," Holax said, as if it were an aside, sending the communication to some other unknown audience.
Attention was quickly directed back to him however as Holax said, "You have been convicted of the following crimes: Three counts attempted overthrow of the World Federation, Two counts conspiracy against mankind and Two hundred counts murder of Federation personnel."
There was an abrupt momentary pause as the large head glared at him grimly, then it continued with, "Because of the violent and terroristic nature of your crimes, you have been categorized as a Level Six Convict - maximum danger and destructiveness to society. Therefore, this court hereby sentences you to life imprisonment at the maximum-security Lunar-One criminal institution. You will be leaving at 8:30am-07/25/2110. All of your personal records are - as we speak - being deleted from all databases. You are no longer Bill Larantz, that identity has been permanently erased just as if you had never been born. You are now the property of the World Federation. Your identity is now L-1/INM-448xx7. As the property of the WF you can and may be subjected to any psychiatric-experimentation, including drugs, shock and surgery. Do you have anything to say for yourself before your sentence begins?" Holax asked in conclusion with a most invalidating tone and expression.
"I am neither a criminal nor a terrorist!" Bill began his challenging retort looking squarely in the eyes of the giant head facsimile before him. "Me and my fellow Freedom Fighters are attempting to restore liberty to this planet that the World Fe---," he attempted to say but the hologram image vehemently cut him off midstream with:
"We don't want to hear any of your old-world democratic ideas here. Personal liberty was a failure, as everyone knows, for it is just too dangerous. The American Republic is out and the One World Order is in. You have failed to keep up with the times and just like all the rest of your freedom-advocate brethren, your true purpose - while beating the drum for liberty - is to commit crimes and protect criminals," Holax stated with finality and evaluation.
As Bill considered the ridiculousness of the statement he had just heard and the comical seriousness with which it was uttered, he suddenly broke out into uncontrolled laughter.
The head's features became enraged as it bellowed to the security officers, "Restrain this criminal at once!"
The three officers complied in a hectic manner, by pulling out their electrified nightsticks, turning them on and touching them to Bill's midsection in unison, sending him into immediate violent convulsions for a few short seconds, after which he collapsed unconscious to the floor.
9:45:00-AM-08/15/2110
John Smith was not his real name, it was actually Nolan Pool, but that name was just too unique. You see Nolan had the fortune or misfortune - however the case may be - of having been born with the most average features. He had the mean height of five feet eleven inches. His brown hair and brown eyes were very common. To accentuate this he wore run-of-the-mill clothes and shoes, had an average-Joe hair cut and maintained a work-a-day manner in all of his actions.
Now most people who were quite average in looks would have probably considered this to be a real problem and might have tried to make themselves a bit out of the ordinary in some way, by getting an odd haircut, donning strange clothes, or something. But not Nolan; instead he thought of it as an asset, an advantage to be utilized to the fullest. All the while he was growing up he practiced being ordinary. He specifically watched films and movies to spot the people who didn't stand out, which were usually in the background and were quite often missed by everyone else. He would then mimic their every move, practicing and drilling constantly, getting their actions down cold. He would then seek out new films and movies for more every-day characters and then mimic them and so on...
He was now fifty-seven and having made this average behavior a habit for many years now, had become a true master of the common man, his every move a letter-perfect regularity. So good in fact that he was now able to virtually disappear. He could get multitudes of people to become unaware of him. Everyone he met and even those he saw on a regular basis had a very hard time remembering his name. Some would try hard for a while to pay attention to him and keep track of him, but after only a short time they would begin to lose him, eventually he became just part of the background. All communication to him would start being on an automatic basis. And he went about his business making very certain that he kept all of his actions mundane.
Nolan had done very average in High School and College, though he could have done much better, but that would have gone against his every-day guy persona. After finishing school he became a reporter for a newspaper in Pittsburgh. He was not an exceptionally great journalist, but could get into places and get stories that others could not, because of his invisible man ability. He worked at the paper for the better part of ten years and gradually befriended a beautiful woman columnist named Stasha. They worked together closely for years as good friends and eventually fell in love with each other, ultimately marrying. Yes he could remember those times vividly. That was back in the old days when the United States was still intact, before The One World Order had taken over. They had a really great relationship as she was the one to stand out and he was just the opposite. And because he was so average he took nothing away from her. Nobody ever really noticed them as a couple, but rather her as a star journalist and beautiful woman. So that worked out great because he didn't want distinction at all and she lived on it.
Each year their love grew stronger and stronger and understanding between them was inviolable. They became such a great team together that they felt nothing could get in their way and could therefore accomplish anything. And so it was they endeavored together with the intention of changing the world for the better. But sometimes it seems that perfect situations such as theirs are not meant for a world as imperfect as this, and - just when it seemed that things could not possibly get any better - the wonderful individual that he cherished so dearly, was murdered, ending forever their life and love together.
She had been working on a story and was uncovering evidence of a secret state government conspiracy, proving that revenue allotted for education, was being used instead to drug children between the ages of six to twelve. The "medications" being administered - though legal - would in effect render all of these young people mentally disabled, thus permanently nullifying their chances of getting any kind of education. And so when she had uncovered and exposed too much, the vested-interest-powers-that-be did her in but good. They did not just kill her but riddled her body with thirty plus rounds from a semi-automatic machine gun.
He was - to say the least - overwhelmed and devastated by his loss for nearly a year. He couldn't think or function. He went through the daily motions of life - eating, dressing, showering and working - kind of on an auto-pilot basis, never really doing any of it at all. He had completely lost his purpose and drive to go on living. But then one day he realized what he must do. He needed to avenge his wife's tragic death by exposing the responsible group as the bloodletting totalitarians that they were. And so his every waking moment was spent ferreting out their dastardly schemes and plots.
He soon discovered that the group he was after was much larger and higher up than he had expected. The true source was a corporate elite that ran the entire planet. The more he penetrated the operations of these people the more hate he developed for them. He realized two years ahead of time that something like the World Federation was on its way. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop it from arriving. But knowing this did not, in any small way, deter his determination to rid the world of this atrocious group.
He of course no longer worked for any newspaper, as they had all been taken over and slanted with WF propaganda. His methods of both finding and distributing the truth about The One-World-Order were simple and insidious. He would get jobs in which he would correct the books of large corporations, thus enabling him to poke around and research, collect evidence, then move on to the next gig and do the same. After a while he would have the information necessary to release an exposé over various private media such as underground computer networks and home broadcasting (television and radio). In addition he would publish articles anonymously in various secret evolutionary and revolutionary magazines, papers etc.
Nolan walked along Canal Street heading for Saxon center - the newest fifty story corporate office building in lower Manhattan. As he went along he noticed the people on foot near him, but they noticed him not at all. Their expressions were all very nervous as they tried to avoid the many security cams above the street. Everywhere you looked there were cameras of various kinds, there were different sizes and shapes, placed in every type of location. They were all perfectly designed to watch your every move. The people were no longer free and the atmosphere was anxious and troublesome.
Upon reaching the front doors of his destination he took care to enter the building in the exact manner he did everyday and was not thrown off by the unexpected, "Hi" from some unknown passerby.
He responded with an average "Hello" and a slight bow of the head then continued on. He made sure that each and every step and motion that he took was an exact duplicate of prior ones he had taken each time before. He stepped into the elevator and monotonously pressed twenty-four, watched the doors close and started on his ascent. It took some time to reach floor twenty-four, what with all the stops made along the way but finally he arrived and the doors opened. He stepped out and turned right to walk up the long corridor towards suite 2469.
Once he had reached the correct office he rang a buzzer located next to the door. Shortly thereafter a voice from an intercom said, "Good morning Mr. Smith, come on in."
The door latch-light went from red to green and then he opened the door and entered. "Hello Mr. Benkins," he said as he closed the door behind him. He noticed that some unknown person stood next to Benkins.
"Ah-Jim right?" Benkins asked, obviously already having trouble with his first name.
"It's John sir," he replied, not in the least disturbed by his forgetting.
"Oh yes John that's right. I would like you to meet Daran Oldemayer, he is the Chief Executive officer of our company," Benkins introduced nervously.
"Pleased to meet you," Nolan said, as he shook the VIP's hand making sure not to be effusive, keeping in his usual everyday manner as well.
"Nice to meet you," The executive said, not meaning it at all as he had an attitude of "I am the most important person you have probably ever met."
"There are the files that I need you to correct today," Benkins said distractedly as he pointed towards two or three Super-Disk-ROM cartridges of one hundred "googol-bit" capacity - one hundred googol bytes of information. And then he continued with, "We were just on our way to our quarterly meeting so I will check back with you later. Alright?"
"Ok Mr. Benkins see you later on," Nolan said quite nonchalantly and noticed that they didn't even stay to hear him finish, as they had already left. The VIP he had greeted was not aware that he had infected his hand with over a million nano-percept recorders. These micro-robots were beyond state-of-the art. They were so far undetectable by any system or device - of course this would be so, for just so long, perhaps two or three months longer and then he would have to improve and miniaturize them yet again. He had infected the Chief executive because he had heard rumors of an ultra-secret convention comprised of the most elite and wealthy individuals on the planet. And he wanted to record this meeting in its entirety as this might just be the breakthrough event that could completely expose the true intentions and nature of the World Federation.
He sat down at the computer, slid in the twelve inch Super-Disk-ROM and began correcting the books as requested but at the same time infected the network with several virus code mechanisms. He also planted a few million hardware and program nano-bots in the main computer so as to redesign and reconstruct the whole system from afar - all undetectable of course. In not too long a time he would have such total control over the company software that he could do whatever he wanted with it and the users would only see what he wanted them to see, nobody ever suspecting anything different.
In just four hours time he had successfully installed the proper corrector modules that would right the entire database while taking care of his own agenda as well. There was not much else he could do at this point but sit back and let everything takes its course.
10:15:00-AM-09/10/2110
Erick Land was a little more than just a bit nervous as he walked about with the personnel director who was currently giving him his orientation. You see this was his very first day on a job he had been striving at for more than fifteen years. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt as if somehow something would go wrong and all of his hard work would be for naught. This was mixed with intermittent positive feelings and thoughts like "Wow I really made it."
The Personnel director - Harve Migel - started his orientation lecture with, "I am going to give you a complete rundown of the Lunar One control station, a little of it's history and what it is exactly that we do here." Harve stated this importantly and you could tell that he thought that working here was of a very high status. He continued on with, "We abbreviate the prison facility to L-1 and the control station to L-1-Con. Now, L-1 is located at Anderson crater 150 kilometers south of where we are here at Freundich crater, which is the home of L-1-Con. We have to run the prison remotely, as the inmates that are sent there are the most dangerous in the solar system. We control - by way of robots and robotic systems and equipment - the entire L-1 facility. We feed the prisoners, keep watch on them, maintain the grounds and structures, and additionally administrate all new construction and planning all from L-1-Con. The inmates come in by small one-way capsules, which become - upon landing - prison cells. All supplies and equipment are shipped from here via automated mini-rail, so as not to allow for a way of escape. The mini-rail cars are so small that there is no way that any human being - including a small child - could possibly fit aboard it. Additionally there is no way to carry or produce oxygen on the rail cars, making it doubly impossible as an escape route. So you see we have here the most escape proof prison ever constructed, one hundred percent fail-safe in my opinion."
Harve paused for a moment in his speech to take a drink of water from his refrigerated thermos unit. And then he continued with, "Now the history of L-1 and L-1-Con began thirty years ago when construction was initiated. It took the better part of ten years to finish and the first inmate arrived nineteen years ago. Since then more than seven thousand prisoners have been sent here, not one has ever escaped and it is not expected that any ever will. The idea for L-1 was conceived by Helmer Aswit, he was a noted psychiatrist and prison director. The current inmate population is four thousand, one hundred and fifty six. This is due to the fact that since The One World Order has taken over Earth, various prisoner rights have been dropped and the government can now use these prisoners in any experiments they see fit. About forty percent of the prisoners who have died at L-1 were due to psychiatric research tests."
Harve again halted for a time as they made their way around a large wall, on the other side of which, was an enormous computer control center. Erik couldn't believe how many people he saw running all manner of computerized equipment; things so high-tech and advanced that it was beyond belief. The center stretched out in all directions and was about the size of a stadium. As he stood there dumbfounded Harve resumed. "Here is where it all happens. This is where you will be working once you complete your entrance program, but for now let me give you a tour. As you can see there is quite a bit of personnel needed to operate L-1." He stopped and looked at Erik somehow sensing that he wanted to comment.
"Wow! I never imagined that it would be anything like this. It's almost overwhelming," Erik stated with obvious awe.
"Yes it can seem that way when you have not been given any information beforehand. As you know everything that we do here is top-secret and confidential. This is why you signed the pledge stating that you will not disclose anything about what we do, what you see or what you know concerning L-1 and L-1-Con, under penalty of imprisonment," Harve responded in a "this-is-to-be-expected" attitude.
They continued the tour for the balance of his first day. Late that night in his quarters, Erik pondered on the next six days, which was how long his entrance program would take. His mind then went on to the next eighteen months - the length of his first tour at L-1-Con; he hoped that all would go well. He also looked forward to his three-month leave after his first tour, although it was a long way off, it was a good goal to work towards. He felt pretty good about everything now, minus the apprehension and anxiety he had earlier. He thought, "it's all going to work out fine." A few short moments later he was sound asleep.
2:25:00-PM-09/22/2110
It had been nearly two months since Bill had been sentenced back on earth. He had taken off the very next morning on a prison airbus, top-security of course. He rode the bus for fifteen hours to Houston where he was transferred aboard Space-Elevator-One - better known as the thriftiest way into space. This grueling journey was most unpleasant and lasted five - seemingly unending - days. At the end of that time, already some two thousand miles in space, he was transferred to an enormous earth-moon-space-barge where he was placed aboard a small capsule - later to serve as his prison cell upon reaching Lunar-one. Traveling on the barge was not too bad; he actually almost enjoyed himself. But this only lasted for two days at which time the large ship entered the lunar orbit. Once on the far side - with the earth no longer in view - he and the capsule of his imprisonment were ejected from the barge towards Lunar-One at Anderson crater. It took the capsule under three hours to get there. Upon entering the crater, you could see what looked like some lunar settlement city scattered across it. His capsule was not going to land on the surface, but instead sought out one of four large shafts that led deep underground. Once it had made it to the shaft it was heading for, it began to slowly descend going down, down, seemingly to the depths of hell. The capsule stopped descending at about one point five kilometers underground and found an empty pre-constructed concavement, which it entered and then finally came to rest. A short time after that he could see various robotic machines doing a multitude of operations to adapt his capsule to the Lunar-One system complex.
Bill knew that he had a very limited amount of time to save himself. If he wanted to make it out of here alive, he would have to act extremely fast, as he was aware of the fact that all technically trained prisoners, were used in experiments that ended with death - usually within the first six to eight months of imprisonment. This was - he figured - because they were trying to prevent escape. However, he had been planning his breakout well before he had arrived. In fact, he had been planning for it since the inception of the Freedom-fighter movement, over five years ago.
He had smuggled - hidden deep within a cavity in one of his teeth - less than one microgram of nano-replicators. These nano-bots were capable of replicating at the rate of two-ex per minute. He had earlier programmed them to activate upon touching a micro magnet to the cavity in his tooth, which he had hidden in a plastic toothpick. And now, two months later, he had nearly two tons of nanobotic material. He had to be extremely prudent in his programming not to amass too much in any one area, as it would be detected. And so, during production, he carefully dispersed the microscopic material all throughout Lunar-One. He had developed a large array of different kinds of micro-equipment, each and every one of which, was designated a particular task. He had a whole series of computer reprogramming nano-bots. The first thing he did with these was to infiltrate the whole network, including all of the robotic equipment. Then he began to create a system wide simulation of L-1, using the digital footage he had collected from the video recording devices, located throughout the prison.
He wanted to be able to handle every conceivable variation, so that those monitoring L-1 at the base-station would believe that they were seeing actual signals and not simulation. This was especially difficult to do for those robots that traveled throughout L-1 being remotely operated by L-1-Con personnel. He had accomplished this goal three days ago and was at this time, slowly, one by one, switching from video signal to simulation. He had to be very cautious in doing this, because each time he switched a machine over there was a split second in which there was an absence of signal transmission and this caused interference on the receiving end. This sort of thing was not too unusual in ordinary operations, as electronic equipment tended to do that from time to time. But he didn't want to get too carried away on this, because were it to happen too frequently, someone could very easily become suspicious. And so he usually picked equipment that was not in operation temporarily. Sometimes however, he had to pick one that was in operation - due to the time factor - knowing very well that the change in signal would be seen at the base end.
The next step he had planned was to record as many of the Psychiatric experiments as possible from the robotic-testing equipment. He had already captured twelve prefrontal lobotomies, twenty-two electric-shock treatments, over fifty pain-drug-hypnosis sessions and about twenty-five other miscellaneous tests. He figured he needed about double that amount to produce enough variety of simulations. He was also in the process of gaining access to the entire computer network. He desperately needed to do this, so that he could find out whom they would be choosing for each experiment. He felt a great deal of anxiety with regard to this, because his very survival depended upon it and he had about another month of work to go to complete it.
Now because he couldn't have any equipment in his room, he had to infect himself with various nanobotic systems. He had for instance, nano-synapse signalers, which converted nano-signals to nerve-signals that could then be seen in his mind as pictures. He had also, synapse-nano receivers, which would take his thoughts as commands and convert them to nano-signals. And in addition to that, he had a nano-digestive detoxification system, which filtered out all drugs, toxins and poison while he ate. He had discovered that they were already doing some kind of test on him, using nerve drugs and he therefore had to act as if it were affecting him by dramatizing the effects, lest anyone become suspicious. And so he worked intently on, burning the midnight oil in a race against time, to both save his life and escape from this godforsaken man made hell.
3:15:00-PM-12/21/2110
Noland had successfully infected thirty-three people with nano-bots in the last six months. He had selected the most likely candidates he could find that were likely to attend the conference of the elite. As it turned out, only eight of those he had chosen actually had made it, but that was more than enough for his needs.
The great convention was being held near Groom Lake, Nevada, in a location known as area 51 - a top secret government base. It had started nearly an hour ago and all the equipment he had implanted was functioning excellently. As he was constantly in need of modernizing his nano-bots, he had a system in place within each person infected that would construct each advance and then gradually replace the previous technology with the new. So far there had been no sign that any of his micro-equipment had been detected, which was all very good and well, but on the other hand, he still could not be relaxed about it, as each moment that passed brought an increased possibility of it occurring. He only hoped that he could get enough data to expose them enough to bring about their demise.
He noted the many VIP's that were attending: there was the President of the World Federation, the Secretary of Prisons, the Secretary of Health and Mental Stability, four Sector Governors and over one-hundred International Corporate officers from the worlds largest enterprises. Eight of the corporate leaders were infected with nano-technology and they were unwittingly sending him signals just as if they had been spies working for him intentionally. One executive in particular, Daran Oldemayer, CEO of Saxon Software Incorporated, was the central terminal through which all digital information collected was being channeled. Noland thought back to the day he had met this man, the day he had infected him, he had been so smug and self-important, and here he was betraying his fellow power-mongers
by Rick Philips
