The New World

Magnetic axis

In the half-light of the basement, the terminal's holographic base glowed like an oil lamp. Paul, his mind riveted to the connection, was integrating the latest information sent by the rebellion's parallel network. With the acrobatics of a monkey, he explored the information tree, analyzed the flags, opened and consumed what was worthy of interest and ignored the rest.

The news was bad for the freedom camp in the American West: one group arrested, another wiped out in a police attack. Several rebels working in the administration had been unmasked.

Since the appearance ten years earlier of the flashers, whose existence had been almost immediately discovered by the authorities, the latter had engaged in a merciless offensive. All security forces around the world were mobilized to eradicate the spread of the heretical gadget, which allowed the implant's protections to be cracked in a matter of minutes and without surgery.

He posted an urgent invitation to a meeting with other managers in the week's mailbox; as always, it was an innocuous message: "looking to exchange statuettes with lovers of ancient art.

"Anybody home?"

It was Lyda who had just returned.

"I'm down here", shouted Paul.

Lyda came down and approached him. She bent down and brushed his cheek with her lips. Her long hair caressed his neck.

"The situation is critical", said Paul, "if those captured in Cali talk, a large part of the North American network is at risk. It's a good thing most of the flashers were made in Europe."

He switched off the terminal, stood up to face Lyda and in turn kissed her; her perfume enveloped him. Her warm presence, the quiet beauty of her face with its broad cheekbones and coppery skin soothed for a moment the anxiety the news had aroused.

"A guy from the Congregation called this afternoon to say that Tecumseh had been noticed and they were planning to test him. If he passes he'll enter a specialized institute for highly gifted students, to become a Chosen One."

"Chosen? And what did you say?"

"That we were honored, but that we'd have to think about it. The guy was astonished that anyone could disdain such an honor. It seemed obvious to him that it would be a blessing for his family if Tecumseh became Chosen. They'll call back in a few days to know our decision. This proposal worries me. You know the Lafontaines? Their daughter was chosen the same way. And now she's completely changed her attitude towards them. Once a month they receive a message from her in which she simply says that she's in good health and very happy where she is. All that's left to console them is the prestige of saying that she's now one of the Chosen. And we're obliged to accept the proposal unless we're definitively classified as suspects."

"Uuh.... Do you think Tec would change like that?"

"Who knows? They've got some pretty effective brainwashing methods."

"We need to talk to him first."

A signal warned that someone had entered. It was certainly Tecumseh. They went back upstairs. The fourteen-year-old was already in the kitchen, his bag thrown at his feet, preparing himself a snack. He greeted them with his usual big smile.

"How was your day?", asked Paul, kissing the boy's jet-black hair.

"Good, good", replied the boy. After the maths lesson, we played the Network. You have to make connections and retransmit messages.

"Is this the game where when a network node misses its connection, it goes into the users' camp?" asked Paul.

"Yes, and the last remaining network node wins. Do you know this game?", remarked Tecumseh, biting greedily into a steaming chocolate pancake.