11. Imprisonment
Over the following days Morgan assembled a few bits of wire, screws, tools and other assorted items from an exploration of the junk cave. He laid his collection on a dusty table along with his gizmo and his dismantled mobile phone. Lin was concentrating on an I-Ching prediction. They were sitting on a bench surrounded by scrap, old chairs, musty fabrics and general waste. On a table in front of them an old television flickered: van Linden had been as good as his word, probably on the assumption that if he showed a nice, friendly face to the children then they would come around to a more co-operative frame of mind. Morgan knew his parents would not have been seen within a thousand miles of the nanosaur launch if it wasn’t for his captivity.
Morgan was pondering how he could utilize the television signal for the short time they had one and construct some kind of device that could unlock the main door. He had memorized the lock configuration but that only helped if he had something that would manipulate the mechanism.
Some time soon, the nanosaur London press conference would be broadcast on the ageing television screen. Morgan walked over and undid the catches at the back of the cabinet.
“What are you doing?” asked Lin.
“Not sure,” he replied. “Just seeing if I can connect to the TV signal in some way.”
“What happens if you can?”
“No idea,” he admitted. “Might be able to patch into different cameras or sound booms. It’s a long shot. The presentation starts soon so I don’t have much time.”
Lin returned to her deliberations with the I-Ching. Morgan located the input signal controller. He twisted the end of the gizmo and it opened into a complex lotus pattern, like a Swiss army knife. He connected a thin filament of wire he had found to it and the other end to the input cable. He returned to his seat and began to experiment with multiple settings. Nothing happened. Morgan sighed deeply, thinking hard.
At that exact moment, the television burst into life. Lin put down the I-Ching whilst Morgan twiddled with his device. Both of them watched the television pictures with rapt attention, although Morgan’s fingers were playing around with the contraption he had rigged up.
On the television screen, a laser light show interplayed amid shimmering prismatic sculptures suspended from the ceiling in the central London auditorium Marius Natzler had chosen for his premier launch. The same presentation and performance was being played out all over the world, staggered to accommodate time zones. The worldwide response had been overwhelming, crooned a smooth voice over. Global reaction to the catastrophic weather, the disappearance of the animal kingdom and reports of strange shadow forms appearing all over the world had fuelled a mixture of fear, retrenchment and panic. Even the desert oil states were talking about survival alliances. The great religions of Catholicism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism were coming together with their former enemies; the great commercial, capitalist corporations dedicated to profit and greed, to discuss collaboration. The UN had already met in emergency session and governments throughout the world, whether from the rich nations or the underdeveloped countries, were in serious dialogue. Politicians, scientists and religious leaders had dominated the airwaves and the Internet trying to understand the events that had changed the world forever. Many believed they were the first signs that the end of the world was more than just nigh – it had arrived. In one sense, this was close to the truth. The presenter’s voice oozed confidence and self-satisfaction.
“I may have something,” said Morgan as he connected two metal clips to a pair of wires that in turn had been wrapped around a steel bar to which several scavenged magnets were attached that led to more wires and metal bars eventually connecting to a broken, battery powered portable radio and thence to Morgan’s gizmo.
Morgan and Lin watched as inside the auditorium, journalists from radio, TV and the Internet were crammed together alongside representatives of the great and the good from politics, the arts, commerce and finance. On the podium stood Marius Natzler. Close by, at the speaker’s table, sat Morgan’s parents looking grim and unhappy. The main revolving stage was hidden behind curtains. Interviews and comment to camera were generating a buzz of immediate anticipation, deep cynicism and naïve hope inside the packed hall. The children could hear random crackling comments. What exactly were nanosaurs and how could they replace the animal kingdom? If you couldn’t eat them of what use were they? How did this pollution eating microbe work? Was it all hogwash?
Morgan smiled. Small lights were starting to flicker around the internal workings of the gizmo. The strange filaments at the top were revolving.
“I’ve been able to link to the camera signal output,” he told Lin proudly.
“What does that mean?” asked Lin.
“We should be able to see what the cameras see and hear what the sound technician hears whether or not it’s live. It’s like I’m piggybacking on the broadcast system. We should see things the TV audience can’t see.”
“But you can’t control where the cameras go, can you?”
“No. I might be able to hijack the production information signal reaching the cameramen. Let me concentrate now, okay.”
Lin smiled and said nothing more.
A camera had pushed through a door leading back stage. Morgan and Lin could see through its eyes even though the pictures weren’t live.
“Clever boy,” whispered Lin, pressing close to Morgan. He felt himself blush from his heels to the crown of his head with pleasure at the compliment.
Behind the scenes in the preparation area a camera showed a team of technicians trying to assemble a group of nanosaurs and get them onto the revolving stage. In true show business tradition, the nanosaurs would be unveiled like a troupe of performers, but they were proving tricky and temperamental and the attendants had to struggle with them: some nanosaurs were partially out of control. One technician’s hands were covered in sticking plasters as he manhandled a tentacled centipoid. The biggest nanosaur on display, a nano lion with multi coloured fur and a loopy expression, was finding it difficult to stand upright.
Morgan realised that cameras could switch automatically so he had to fine tune the controls on his gizmo to match the production signals.
“Can’t that algo thing in your mind do something?” asked Lin. Morgan looked at her and for the first time asked the Cosmic Algorithm for help. Without knowing why he touched the tip of his gizmo onto the lead wire of the television relay and instantly locked onto the broadcast signal with increased power and control.
“Wow!” was all he could say.
Back on the main stage, the spotlights suddenly fell on Marius Natzler. He gazed out at the audience and waited. Silence fell. Natzler took a deep breath and began. “Ladies and gentlemen of the media, honoured guests, welcome to the future. Welcome to the new Garden of Eden. The world is reeling from the most mystifying natural disaster – the disappearance of the animal kingdom. We don't know how or why this has happened and we are only just beginning to understand the consequences. The world is also facing ecological disaster caused by rapid climate change. The effects of both will be seen first in poorer countries dependent upon animals for food. The balance of power in the world has changed in a remarkably short time making religious and political dogma irrelevant. New forms of synthetic food must be found; population growth must be controlled; pollution must be reduced and reduced now, not tomorrow. The time when countries and empires could go their own way is over. And, in order to survive, we must find the answer to climate change, replace the animal kingdom and develop new forms of synthetic foods. Believe me, power and wealth will not protect anyone from the crisis we face as human beings. The poor will suffer and die first, as always, but not one single individual on the planet is immune.”
The audience paid rapt attention; journalists scribbled furiously; cameras flashed; every expression in the room was one of deadly seriousness. Even the reaction of one tall man wearing a tartan shirt standing near the front was grim. Tom Wheeler watched Marius Natzler closely. Morgan experienced a shock of recognition as his face briefly filled the screen.
Natzler continued: “To answer the first question I am joined by Nobel Prize winning scientist Doctor Rufus Lane. He has perfected a microbe that will destroy pollution in the atmosphere even as far as the ozone layer. This does not mean we can continue in our profligate ways. Doctor Lane will be available to answer any questions you may have. His wife Hilary is a zoologist and primate expert who has presided over a well-publicised miracle – the only animal we are aware of still in existence on the planet.
“We are seeing the power of nature in a new guise. Now, evolutionary change is within our control. The Synthetic Life Corporation is proud to present a new creation – a new species – the first step in a new evolutionary order where life is no longer a random chance event but a conscious development. With one great new step the ecological, environmental and social problems of the world will begin to be solved. Darwin is dead. God cannot be found. High technology lives. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you – nanosaurs!”
The curtains parted, the lights and music intensified and the stage began to revolve as the nanosaurs began their fashion parade. Lights flashed and TV cameras moved in close and the throng of journalists stood and crowded up to the stage, gasping at the sight of the assorted nanosaurs.
Shouted questions and comments merged into one cacophonous roar of astonishment.
“They're monsters – abominations!” complained a shocked journalist.
“I think they're cute – what a great idea,” said a columnist from one of the Sundays.
Natzler’s acid voice rose to a new level. “Nanosaurs are only the first step. Soon they will have primitive intelligence, maybe the power of speech. They can be programmed. They can be used as free labour – they cannot tire. They can be used to develop organ replacements and in medical research – no more ethical or moral conflicts. We can use them to work with the environment and control it. They cannot die, unless I wish to eliminate them, and they can replicate themselves if destroyed by anyone other than me. They do not need food or water and soon, ladies and gentlemen, soon my Corporation will present its first invertebrate nanosaurs, so vital for the propagation of plant life.”
“He’s insane,” shouted Lin kneeling in front of the screen.
“He’s more than insane,” replied Morgan. “Much more.”
On screen the house lights came on. The stage stopped turning and the nanosaurs stared at the audience. The audience stared back. Then the questions started.
“What’s in this for the Synthetic Life Corporation?” asked a journalist from the London Times.
“Good question, Simon,” said Natzler. “I am not going to reveal the cost of this development, neither will I reveal the cost of the microbe programme. Taken together, the Corporation is offering the world salvation. Make no mistake, much of the world will simply not survive the next five years. No one on this planet has any solution to our situation except me. I am calling on world governments, energy producers, food producers, and religious leaders of every faith, believers and non-believers, to join me in forming what will be a true world government. I announce today the inauguration of the New World Order. I am inviting world leaders to a summit to end all summits: I call it a summit for survival. I can announce that the British Royal Family, which has now decamped to one of its extensive and self-sufficient estates, has offered Buckingham Palace as the venue for the inaugural meeting of the New World Order.”
There was complete uproar at this news, with many voices decrying the very concept and others welcoming it as the only way forward. Natzler held up his hands and silence gradually descended.
Back in their prison cave, Morgan and Lin could not take their eyes from the screen. Morgan was having much more success with his camera hopping control technique; it was starting to work in long bursts.
Back on screen, a woman raised her hand. “Lisa Race, Sunshine TV,” she said. “ Mr. Natzler, are these nanosaurs living creatures, or are they just cleverly designed robots?”
“Oh, it's life Lisa, but not as we know it. This life, Lisa, has one big advantage, it is under our control.”
Tom Wheeler stood and looked at Natzler. “Mr. Natzler, Tom Wheeler, freelance. Can you tell me if Doctor Lane is collaborating with you of his own free will? And, in this New World Order, who will be in supreme command? Are you being controlled by forces beyond even your comprehension?”
Natzler stared at Tom. “You will have an opportunity to talk to Doctor Lane over lunch. As for the leadership of the New World Order, well, it will be a democratic organization that I shall lead.”
Questions then began to deluge Natzler who stood calmly and quietly waiting till they subsided.
“How safe are these things? What about disease?”
“They're horrific, obscene, anti-Christian. Messing about with genetic research is dangerous. This animal disappearance business is an act of God. These nanosaurs can’t be destroyed? Who is controlling who here?”
“I think it's brilliant marketing, Mr. Natzler. What about the sales potential, it's a world market, a monopoly?”
“Who owns the microbe pollution solution, Doctor Lane or the Natzler Corporation?”
“Who needs ten million species of animals anyway? Design your own, I like it.”
“Mr Natzler, there is a rumour circulating that this ape can talk? Can you confirm or deny this.”
Natzler held up his hands once again. “I can’t tell you anything more about the ape except that Winston is far more advanced than a normal orangutan. You will have an opportunity to ask as many questions as you like over lunch. But come, first bond with a nanosaur. They are now man’s new best friends.”
Morgan subconsciously twiddled his gizmo seeking to latch on to the nearest camera even though normal pictures were being transmitted.
As they watched, Natzler skipped down from podium and was immediately buried in a sea of journalists. Morgan’s parents looked at each other then followed him down to the floor of the auditorium. They, too, were instantly surrounded by questioners vying for attention. The stage slid forward leaving the nanosaurs in full view and the nanosaurs regarded the audience without curiosity. Slowly, people began to edge closer and touch them tentatively.
Throughout the auditorium animated voices argued and debated; news teams were delivering reports to camera and journalists were interviewing anyone connected with the Synthetic Life Corporation when doors opened at the far end of the auditorium to reveal a vast room set for lunch. Waitresses drifted through the crowd with champagne and canapés. Music was muted and relaxed.
The nanosaurs were now mingling with the audience. A winged dog fluttered onto the shoulder of a delighted female journalist. A nanosaur rat was chewing a man's trouser leg. A nano frog was shivering, showing signs of change, its tongue flashing out and stinging legs. People were turning, wincing, but seeing nothing.
A large furry nano crocodile had its jaws firmly clamped on a man’s arm. Nearby, his colleagues laughed at him and the man also laughed, but unconvincingly and then winced as he looked into croc's eyes. He tried to laugh again and appear normal but the croc was pulling him gently outside through the crowd.
Suddenly a female editor screamed with delight as a large pink nano eagle with soft talons picked her up gently and flew around the room carrying her like a toy. The woman was laughing uncontrollably. She cried out directions and the bird responded, carrying her right to the ceiling of the auditorium and swooping down over the heads of the crowd. She shouted ‘Down’ and the bird lowered her gently to the floor and flew off to perch on a nearby beam. She was immediately on camera for an in-depth interview about her experience.
Morgan tried to direct a camera and sound boom towards his parents who were standing grim faced having answered a mountain of questions about the microbe research but it was difficult. He struggled but then grunted with satisfaction. From nowhere a tall man appeared next to his parents. “Rufus, Hilary, my name is Tom Wheeler,” he said.
Morgan sat bolt upright.
“What?” said Lin. “Do you know him?”
“I think so,” Morgan told her. “I need to stay close to this group somehow.”
On screen, Tom Wheeler looked out of the television set directly at Morgan and Lin as though he could see and hear them. “Stay close,” he said.
“How did he do that?” cried Lin. “Who is he?”
Back in the auditorium, Rufus and Hilary had moved into a three-shot with Tom Wheeler.
“You’re the one who asked about Morgan and Winston and who owned what, aren’t you?” said Morgan’s father.
“Yes,” said Tom. “I know what is happening here.”
“Who are you exactly?” asked his mother.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said. “Firstly, I am not a journalist. Let’s just say I am from a world very different from this and I am destined to help Morgan. There are far greater events than the animals vanishing or climate change about to face this planet.”
“Sounds a bit wacko mystical to me,” said Morgan’s father. “But, as long as you’re not a journalist, then, yes, you were right and very perceptive. Natzler is forcing us to play ball with him because he has got our son, a young girl we are caring for and our amazing orangutan somewhere and God knows what he’s doing to them. But, what do you mean, destined to help Morgan?”
“Natzler has told us they are all perfectly fine,” said Morgan’s mother, “and will remain so as long as we co-operate.”
“I fear the world will soon dance to Mr. Natzler’s tune,” said Tom.
“Not if we can help it,” snapped Morgan’s father. “We’ve got to find Morgan, Lin and Winston. So, how exactly can you help?”
Tom did not answer directly. “What about the microbe program?” he asked. “Won’t you be involved in running that?”
“I want to see our son and Winston free and safe first. And Lin, of course. It’s my only bargaining counter,” the scientist replied.
“And how did the ape become a genius?” asked Tom.
“How did you know that? That has never been made public, only that they think he can talk,” enquired Morgan’s mother looking at Tom strangely. He just smiled at her. “It’s a mystery,” she continued. “It was during the worst of the storms. Somehow Winston got himself entangled in the molecular synthesizer and started playing on the keyboard.”
“Somehow an enzyme that left no trace must have been created. He was injected with this substance. Next thing we know, our pet primate has changed physically and mentally into a genius,” said Morgan’s father.
“He’s more human than most humans,” his mother told Tom.
“Was anyone with him,” he asked.
Morgan began to squirm. “Tell him, Dad” he shouted at the screen.
“Well, Morgan was there but…” his father began.
“Morgan has a remarkable memory, Mr. Wheeler,” said his mother. “He can remember the most complex equations and electronic circuits and all kinds of things.”
“That’s it,” his father sounded excited. He kept his voice down to an urgent whisper. “What if Morgan saw something and memorized it?”
“He’d have told us,” said his mother.
“Not necessarily,” replied his father.
“I have feeling that he did just that, Mrs. Lane, and no one knows except Morgan , Lin and Winston,” said Tom. “Oh, and I suspect Natzler also knows.”
“And Natzler has them locked away somewhere,” Morgan’s father could barely contain his fury. ‘If he even suspects then Morgan’s life could be in danger.”
“I think it’s time I had a word with Mr. Marius Natzler,” said Tom. “By the way, keep your eyes open for shadows that are not shadows. They can be dangerous.”
“What are they?” asked Morgan’s mother.
Tom told her. “The shadows are the advanced guard and a weak projection of what is to come if not stopped. They are the Shadix.”
“Shadix? Sounds like one of those new age hallucinations. Don’t waste our time by being deliberately mysterious. You were about to tell us how you can help our son and his friends. How?” Morgan’s father demanded.
Tom touched him on the arm and looked him in the eyes. Then he walked off through the crowd leaving Morgan’s parents looking encouraged but with a hundred questions on their lips.
The picture on screen suddenly raced into blurry super speed then went straight into close up of Marius Natzler and Tom Wheeler.
Morgan sat back and stared at his gizmo. “How did that happen? I didn’t do anything,” he said then looked back at the screen. “This should be interesting,” he said to Lin.
“You’re the freelance aren’t you?” said Natzler.
“Tom Wheeler,” said Tom.
“I don’t recall your name on the guest list.”
“I wasn’t on the guest list and I’m not a journalist,” said Tom.
“Perhaps I should have you escorted from the building?” said Natzler threateningly.
“I don’t think you’ll want to do that. You are treading a dangerous path. You have taken the boy Morgan and the ape against their will because they hold the key to your ambition.”
“And what would you know about my ambition, Mr. Wheeler?”
“Your New World Order will enslave the world under the guise of giving people what they want most. There have been prophecies in holy books that explain this. You desire to hold all the keys and claim all the power. You have fallen into the web of the Shadix and you have lost your mind so that you no more than a nanosaur yourself. You are simply a husk but with a sliver of humanity as your exterior shell. The truth is that the destiny of the planet is in the hands of two children, a talking ape, and me.”
“You are clearly unbalanced, my friend,” Natzler touched his cheek with his right hand. “There is no God and holy books of all kinds are mind seduction for the masses. So, who or what are you exactly? And who told you about the ape?”
“You know exactly what I am Shadii,” said Tom. “I am of the archangels, servant of the Continuum, an angel whose essence was forged in the heat of Eta Carinae.”
“What?” exclaimed Morgan almost dropping his gizmo.
“He’s the angel,” breathed Lin ecstatically. “He’s the one, isn’t he?”
“Yes he is.” Morgan was trying to convince himself of an unscientific revelation.
“There, see.” Lin was triumphant. “I told you science doesn’t have all the answers.”
Morgan could see that Natzler was becoming edgy and impatient.
“Your delusions are your own affair,” sighed Natzler with disdain, “but I am interested in what you are telling me about the boy and the ape, if not the girl. You know that they have critical information of some description whether they realize it or not? And so you must know I intend to have it one way or another and very soon.”
“I am here to help them. And the boy does carry information, as you put it, but it is not destined for you. It has a crucial role to play in the destiny of the planet that unfolds inside the Continuum. I need to find Morgan, Winston and the girl, for she is not with them by chance.”
Morgan and Lin were riveted to the unfolding conversation. Morgan’s hands were damp with sweat.
From the screen Natzler was scornful. “I am afraid that is impossible. They are perfectly well and in a safe place. I see them as a vital link in the chain and plan to reunite them with their parents once I am in possession of certain information. My New World Order is the only future for the Earth. People will come to understand that it is useless to oppose me. As for the rest of your mumbo-jumbo, I…”
Tom placed a hand on Natzler’s arm. “Let me show you a vision of your future. Look hard!” he insisted forcefully.
Morgan and Lin watched as Natzler paled and his eyes dilated. Inside, a dread and dark presence looked out at the world and the stain of the Shadix caused Natzler’s pupils to turn inky black. The children recoiled as the darkness appeared to reach out of the television screen. Natzler stared wildly at Tom for a moment and pulled his arm away violently. “How did you do that?” Tom abruptly turned and melted into the crowd leaving Natzler stunned and shaken but he pulled himself together as another clutch of journalists and politicians vied for his attention.
At that moment, Morgan’s parents came over, brushing aside the crowd of questioners that had attached itself to them like limpets the moment the presentation ended.
“We need to talk,” said Morgan’s father.
Morgan played furiously with his gizmo to try and stay focused on his parents.
“Can’t you contact them somehow?” Lin quizzed him. Morgan shook his head frantically adjusting his controls.
“All right, Marius,” he heard his father say. “We’ll co-operate. But we need a guarantee that the children and Winston are safe and will come to no harm. We want them back and we want them back now.”
“I understand your concern, Rufus, and I am delighted to hear that you will join my New World Order. I will give you the title of Chief Scientific Advisor. I will have to think of something suitable for you, Hilary, but I am sure a position can be arranged. Now, as to a guarantee, here are my terms. I will assume the position of Chancellor of the New World Order with global powers to match. I am expecting representatives of every major power group on Earth, whether political, economic or religious, to attend the first summit conference at Buckingham Palace. Even as we speak I have been informed that we are receiving acceptances from the some of the most powerful people and groups in the world. Frankly, they are clamouring to attend.
“I want you to be there to explain exactly how the microbe programme will work in practice and how it can be activated. Of course, after this I expect you to hand over the final missing element. I will provide you with full laboratory facilities, anything you want you shall have. I will expect both of you to provide full information on how your pet ape became the genius it appears to be. And I believe Morgan’s famous memory may well contain some very interesting information. Heed my warning. I have the technology to vacuum clean their minds if I so desire. To avoid this unpleasant state of affairs I expect you both to co-operate. When this has been agreed, Morgan, Winston and the girl will be returned to you.”
“On the day of the conference?” said Morgan’s mother.
“On the day of the conference,” Natzler assured her.
She clutched at her husband and they looked at each other. “All right,” agreed Morgan’s father, “it’s a deal. But all bets are off if anything happens to or any harm is done to my son, Lin and Winston. I’ll make sure I have public opinion on my side. Only when they are back with us safely will we cooperate.”
Natzler smiled thinly. He inclined his head but said nothing.
“I hate him,” snarled Lin as the TV pictures abruptly ceased and the television went dead.
“One of these days,” said Morgan. “One of these days.”