September 8th, 2027

John Walker stared blankly at the receptionist sitting in the blue high-back computer chair who was simply poring over a stack of papers on her desk. She was also multi-tasking, speaking as if the world depended on this call into the earpiece attached to her left ear. You’d think that by her mannerisms she was single-handedly routing the Persian Army, yet she’d also applied this tenacity to the previous five calls John had been subjected to listening in on, and he assumed she would apply it again with the next five. It was a mystery to John; he would certainly never be able to stand being a secretary, answering calls and filling out forms all day.

Then again, it wouldn’t be so bad to be the president’s personal secretary.

In one hand Miss Amelia Evans gripped a pen and jotted down notes from a call. The other she used to type information into the touch-screen keyboard of one of those new neural impulse-reading computers. The contraptions were now able to be linked directly into a human by simply reading desires communicated by the human eye. The theory was that all human thoughts and desires can be observed in the eye at the moment they surface, and the computers were able to read those signals and perform whatever functions the user required. To John, having been in his technological prime with the advent of the Smartphone, the whole notion was completely foreign.

As was the odd chair he was sitting in. The cold steel frame reminded him of the time he’d gone mountain climbing in the Alaskan mountains with a few of his college buddies. His coat had torn open and forced his T-shirt against the ice, allowing him to feel the true sting of the chill for the first time.

But of course, this wasn’t 2004, and John wasn’t climbing a mountain⎯though metaphorically speaking, he may have just begun such a trek. No, instead he was waiting in the lobby of the White House in a cold, steel chair. Waiting like always.

Despite having told Frank already, the information in John’s head was rumbling around like a feral bobcat in a cage. For some reason simply telling them wasn’t enough; he had felt the strong urge to come here and talk it all out with Frank in person. Perhaps even find some way to help if all this turned out to be what he thought it might turn into.

It was a very complex set of circumstances, no one could argue that, but it did have to happen this way according to the prophecies from nearly any religion. Why it had to happen this way was another question entirely, but what mattered now was that it was, indeed, meant to happen. The only other concern on John’s mind was that the boy would try to stop his teacher, and that the teacher wouldn’t give up easily.

John had wondered during his trip to Washington if there was some reason that all these occurrences were so closely linked⎯why his daughter taught at the same school as the professor, why she knew the boy so closely, and why John had been the one to receive the warning. The only thing he could come up with was that Armageddon liked all the coincidence.

He’d decided, however, that these wonderings of his held no place in the current situation, so he’d set them aside. What mattered now was David and Darrow. The statistics and just plain logic said that it was impossible for the boy to win, but at least he would get the satisfaction of trying.

Satisfaction was a good thing, especially the satisfaction of knowing that President Frank Thomas was calling the receptionist and telling her to let John in.

Miss Evans picked up the president’s voice on the phone; John could hear it even from his seat fifteen feet away.

“Mister Walker . . .” she started, but John was already twisting the handle and pushing the door in.

President Thomas stood directly across the large conference room staring at a ten by twelve map of the United States that hung loosely from a wall twice its size. The entire room was decorated in oak and cherry wood, even the picture frames that held Frank’s most treasured memories. Navy blue floor with the national insignia squarely in the middle of the room.

A single window to John’s right showed the back lawn of the White House, the only sight in the room that didn’t appear to be worth a thousand dollars alone. The furniture, on the other hand, smelled of millions.

The door John had entered through shut with a scratching of the bolt against the frame, causing the president to realize someone had entered the room. He turned to face John with that air of authority he’d developed since his election three years ago. That was when John saw the red line on the map that crossed straight from D.C. over to St. Louis.

“Ah, John,” Frank said, extending his hand. His smile deepened the lines in his face that came from a combination of worry and joy; worry from his work, joy from his family.

Though it took John a full three seconds to cross the room and reach Frank, he returned the man’s smile and shook the hand of the President of the United States.

“Welcome to the White House.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

Frank motioned towards a chair in front of the desk. “Please, take a seat.”

John did as requested. Frank’s face was a clear insight into his mind, just as it had always been, and John could tell he that was a perturbed man by the drooping eyes and complete lack of energy.

Frank took his own seat across the desk from John and sighed. “John, I’m afraid we’re in the midst of a dilemma, and I don’t mean the kind we used to work out in a few minutes when I first got elected.”

“Something’s wrong?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, your information was a tad late. Mister Darrow knows.”

John clasped his hands together and placed them under his chin. The first obvious question would be “How?” But he already knew the answer to that: we’re not sure. Instead he decided to ask the secondary question.

“What will we do?”

“We don’t know.” Well, at least John had expected it. Although Frank was a brilliant politician and a superb leader, even the federal government has some areas they’re simply clueless about.

“Art Slogan is trying to contact Mister Penner,” the president continued. “However, his calls are going unanswered. He’s on his way here and, should he get a hold of the boy, has my authorization to work on a plan.”

John hadn’t known a single thing about David until the president told him about the young man, but he assumed that since the boy was such a large opponent of Darrow’s, it would only follow that he’d be willing to help. A few e-mails traded between John and Frank had confirmed that whatever they did, this young genius would inevitably become involved. Best if they involve him themselves.

Still, nothing was solid.

“A plan?” John asked. “No offense to the Secretary or David, but neither of them can come up with a solution by themselves.”

Frank nodded, thinking deeply for a moment, then stood and paced to the wall on John’s left. Pictures, memories of better times than this one.

“You’re right,” Frank conceded, turning back to face John.

“Then we have to stop David.”

“No. Right now he’s our ace in the hole. We need him, even if it’s only for a short diversion.”

“Then we’re just going to let him get killed.”

Frank frowned at John’s disapproval. “No.”

“Good, now we just need a yes to the first question.”

“John, you’re my friend and I respect your judgment immensely, but you have to realize that this goes beyond some prophetic warning you had. I’ve looked into Darrow’s background and he has some friends in dangerously high places. We haven’t come up with a plan yet because, quite frankly, we’re still in a bit of panic. You told us about Darrow yesterday; we just learned of his connections today. I know you want immediate answers and results, but these things take time.”

John sighed, knowing Frank was right. His impatience had gotten the better of him.

But he also knew that he was right. Darrow was potentially a very dangerous man and steps needed to be taken to ensure he didn’t reach that potential. There had to be something John could do.

“But,” Frank picked up the conversation. “As I said, Arthur is talking to the boy. Or will, whenever he picks up the phone.”

Which was really moot, at this point. “You and I both know he won’t get anywhere. Not without help.”

“Hence Art.”

“I mean real help, not just a dot of direction from one man. He needs someone there with him to help keep a level head and carry out the most logical action. Someone who knows how to go about this kind of operation. He won’t make it anywhere by just making a plan and hoping it works out.”

John realized just as much as Frank how difficult he was being, but he was only trying to convey to Frank how urgent it was to not leave everything up to one college student. He was aware that unless they had a verified threat the government couldn’t do much, but he’d at least thought they would take the threat seriously.

Which they were, John reminded himself. The wheels weren’t turned all that often, though, so it was only logical that it would take some time before they could get moving again.

“We have no other choice,” Frank said. “If you have any suggestions you know I’d be glad to hear them.”

“Good. I suggest we do what makes the most sense: we send someone to Missouri. Anyone, as long as they know how to handle the situation and what our stance is. We can’t just hope for one man to delay the inevitable.”

Frank thought about it for a moment, but dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “It’s too late for that, John. We’ve gotten word that the professor has an informant.”

The thought caught John by surprise. “An informant?”

Frank nodded with a raised brow.

“As in someone who works for you and is feeding him information?” No reply. “That’s impossible. Real life isn’t some spy thriller full of double agents and betrayal, and Darrow’s just a scientist.”

“A scientist with some very rich backers. What’s that quote you’re always giving me? ‘The love of money is the root of all evil?’ You should know better than most what men like that are capable of. And if they do see us coming, Darrow will hop aboard the first commercial airliner and we’ll lose him.”

This is bad, John thought. Though it was a bit of a stretch, he thought it may have even been worse than the nuclear fallout between Kazakhstan in North Korea a few years ago. At the very least, it had the potential to become worse.

“So we do what?” John asked, now almost exhausted of options. “Just let the system work in the background and let one man deal with the problem himself? It sounds like you’re trying to make him either a suicidal savior or the next Julius Caesar.”

Frank breathed out his nose and let a smirk rise. “I assure you, John, we’re not trying to kill him or make the United States the next Roman Empire. The process is simply slow and even if I believe you, that doesn’t mean you won’t have critics.”

“But you do have people working on this?”

“As I said earlier, Arthur’s talking to David, and if he can find any incriminating evidence we’ll alert the CIA. You’re forgetting that we don’t even know if Darrow intends to use his device for harmful purposes. In fact, you’re the only one who claims he has malevolent purposes for building it.”

“You said he had dangerous friends. Is it possible they would convince him to weaponize his device?”

Frank mulled it over for a moment. “Possible. But the odds⎯”

“Frank, if you trust me at all, you have to believe what I’m telling you. One way or another, that device will be used to wreak havoc.”

“And I might be able to convince more people if we had solid proof. But we don’t. Not everyone believes what you do, John, and they certainly wouldn’t believe that you know this because of a dream.”

“A vision,” John corrected him. “It was a vision.”

Frank put one hand on his waist and the other on the wall. “Regardless. In this vision you saw what, exactly? Darrow converting his device into a warhead of some kind?”

It wasn’t that simple, really, but if John told Frank the whole story he’d likely be thrown into an insane asylum. The only reason Frank had agreed to consider John’s accusation was because John had been a sort of spiritual advisor for almost thirty years. Whenever the president was struggling with his conscience or having trouble with something, he turned immediately to John.

And now it was time for him to return the favor by hearing John out, which he had done most graciously. But John hadn’t told him everything, only that he believed Darrow to pose a threat to national security. After a quick background check of all Darrow’s known associates and his psych profile, Frank had agreed. The fact that the professor was building a device with unknown abilities and had requested legal authorization to perform dangerous experiments on live human subjects did a great deal of support for John, no doubt.

If he explained everything to Frank right now, he would lose that support. That was something he couldn’t have.

“It’s hard to explain spiritual communication because it acts outside the boundaries of our physical limits,” he said, attempting to make it sound more complicated than it was. “It’s the kind of thing you have to experience to understand. I ask that you trust me on this one.”

“I do, John, you know that. But not everyone knows you as well as I do. Slogan’s already complaining that he has more important work to do than chase down ghost stories. Aside from him, I haven’t told anyone yet. We need more evidence.”

John sighed. They were at a stalemate, and if it went on too long they’d eventually be taken into checkmate. If they pressed Darrow and Darrow pressed back, they risked riots and possible civilian casualties. If they didn’t, Darrow’s weapon would work its magic.

Aside from sending David in to gather the necessary evidence, they didn’t have any alternatives.

And then it clicked.

“Send me.”

Frank was walking back to his desk taking a sip of water when John’s words hit his ears. He choked briefly, then swallowed. “What?”

“Send me. Let me go meet David and together we’ll find a way to get you the evidence you need.”

Frank set his water down and stared at it for a moment. Then his eyes went to the map on the wall behind his desk. “Even if you left now, you wouldn’t get there until midnight at the earliest. Darrow’s called a press conference at eight in the morning. You’d have to find David, work something up with him, and try to execute it all in the space of eight hours at the most. It’s not enough time.”

But the idea brought something else to Frank’s mind. He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a phone. “Excuse me for a moment, John.”

Professor Mark Darrow sat in his office chair, alone in the room aside from the sound of his own heart thumping. After all his scheduled classes were over, he often liked to enjoy a peaceful hour to himself before rushing down to the labs. Usually this peaceful hour involved him listening to music or reading the classics, but today for some reason it involved only silence and Mark’s own thoughts.

All the geniuses throughout history had their quirks. Mark would be remembered for sitting in his office doing absolutely nothing. Just thinking.

It was a good exercise, that much was obvious. It gave him plenty of time to examine things in his life⎯things that most people simply neglect. They went about their days not giving a single thought to anything they’d said or done that day, without thinking about the far-reaching consequences their actions may have. Today, for example, Mark had finally proven evolution. He could only imagine the . . . the magnitude of that discovery. A hundred years from now people would look back on him and say, “He was one of the greats. The one who finally proved where we come from.”

And what would stem from that discovery? Untold millions of future discoveries, things that could change the very way humanity viewed itself and its purpose in the universe. Assuming, of course, that there was a purpose. David had brought up a good point this morning.

But that wasn’t worth thinking about. What was worth thinking about was the scientific advancements that would come in the next ten years. They would finally be able to see exactly what humans evolved from, and possibly even how. Psychologists would have a fit determining how human brain and social functions had evolved. Geneticists would throw themselves into determining how certain traits evolved down the chain and why. Chemists would learn the exact processes of human evolution; virologists would learn why certain diseases affected humanity and how they came about; geologists, oceanologists, and paleontologists would discover what had happened to extinct life forms.

In essence, it would be nothing short of the single greatest scientific discovery in recorded human history, and it would pave the way for a new era of scientific discovery.

It was such a bright future.

And once Mark had finally freed the people from the tyranny of ignorance, once he’d finally shown them once and for all that his beliefs were correct, then what?

Then nothing. He would be regarded as one of the most esteemed men on earth, he would have everything he ever wanted, and he would help bright new scientists with their discoveries. Just by selling the rights to the Kremlin⎯and he had to in order to let other scientists perform their experiments with it⎯he could buy a country somewhere and rule it as he saw fit.

That wasn’t Mark’s style, however. Riches and power and the pleasantries of life didn’t beckon to him as they did to lesser men. All he had ever wanted was to find the origin of life. Now he had done that.

The creationist community would be in chaos. They would claim that he forged information or performed some freak of nature experiment because he was deranged. They were all so deluded. Ignorance is the shutter that keeps men stumbling in darkness, killing each other and committing all varieties of atrocious acts. In order to live in a world full of peace, the religion-wielders would have to come out and say that they were just plain wrong.

When he died, Mark wondered, what would become of him? Would they give him a funeral procession similar to that of Gandhi? Would they weep for ten days and nights over the loss of one of history’s most enlightened?

No, probably not. If anything, they would forget he ever existed. Five years after he died, someone would come along with a piece of Moses’ stick and say that they had been wrong in believing evolution. They would do whatever it took, including falsifying data and deceiving the masses.

That couldn’t happen. After all Mark had done and was still destined to do, the world would not go back to ignorance once he was gone. If need be, he would prolong his life. He would become immortal⎯or at least, extremely old. That would certainly show them.

But that was impossible, no matter how much humanity evolved. Death is death, and try as one may, no one can escape it.

So if he couldn’t be around forever to keep the people from losing what he’d achieved for them, there had to be another option.

Radzlov would know what to do.

Mark pulled his cell phone from his lab coat pocket, breaking the silence that had permeated the room for the past twenty minutes, and pressed the button with ‘5’ stamped on it. He held it to his ear and listened to the ring.

“Hello?”

Surprising. Shocking. Somewhat amazing altogether that James had actually answered.

“James, it’s Mark. You need to call off the brief tomorrow.”

James grunted, as if he’d been asleep until now. “What?”

“You heard me. Call it off.”

“Mark, what happened? Did something go wrong with the device?”

“It’s fine, James. I just need you to call off the brief tomorrow. I have some business I need to attend to out of town.” Mark moved the mouse attached to his computer, effectively waking it.

“You can’t just call off a major meeting after inviting two dozen of the most important scientists in the nation. Not to mention the presidential representatives the White House promised⎯”

“We both know they’re bluffing. Mavis sent out a memo.”

James took a moment to consider his responses, and Mark began searching for commercial flights to Moscow on the web. Most people preferred the new mind-reading computers, but Mark still couldn’t get used to the creepiness of having a computer knowing his every thought.

“Then just forget that,” James said. “That has nothing to do with this. We won’t get a chance like this again, Mark. You won’t get a chance like this. If you tell the most revered scientists in your home country that you’re leaving town right after you invited them down to view what may be the most vital scientific discovery in human history . . . well needless to say they won’t like it.”

“It doesn’t matter what they like or don’t like, James.” Mark pushed the phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing up both hands for typing. “There will always be more people to call when we really need them. This is legitimate business, after all. We’ll be taken seriously by somebody.”

“Not by the Observatory, you won’t.”

Mark stopped typing mid-sentence. Stopped breathing, too. “You mean . . . ?”

“They promised to send a representative overnight in addition to reading the forms you sent them. If you cancel now it will be like inviting them over for tea and then throwing it in their faces.”

A crude but accurate analogy. If he simply left, he not only looked rude and inconsiderate of the Observatory’s time and resources, but he would also be blacklisted and lose the respect needed to get his results taken seriously.

“You still want me to call off the conference?”

Mark stroked his chin. “No, no. Keep it the way it is. I’ll just have to find more time.”

“Time for what, Mark? You’re not making any sense.”

“I’ve decided something that may be crucial to the people remembering what we’ve done here.”

James sighed. He was annoyed by Mark’s paranoia over his brainchild. “What are you thinking? Of course they’ll remember it; you’ve proven evolution for God’s sake!”

True, very true, but life is ruled by the fear of failure and the forgetfulness of men. One day, when they were afraid of what it could mean for them, the people would turn away from the truth entirely and embrace the superstitious nonsense that had left them blind in the dark for the past billion years.

“Yes,” Mark told James. “Yes I have. But I want to be personally assured that what we do here will never be forgotten. Call it historical insurance.”

James had dealt with Mark’s obsession over his research for five years now and he was familiar with how demanding Mark could be of himself, but this sudden doubtfulness on the professor’s part seemed to have confused him.

“Okay,” he finally conceded. “Well I know I can’t stop you. But at least tell me

what it is you’re planning on.”

Mark hesitated. Then he returned to his computer, began the process of purchasing an airline ticket, and brought up his e-mail. “I wish I could, James, and you know I would if I thought it safe. God only knows who’s listening to this conversation.”

“You make it sound like we’re planning a terrorist attack.”

“No, we’re just talking about the sum of my life’s work which would be invaluable to any scientist who has the ability to make anything out of it. Just think about it: whoever is responsible for discovering and proving the origin of human life will rake in millions. Half the people on this planet would kill for that opportunity.” Mark paused for a moment and sighed. He supposed there was no harm in telling James where he was going. “I’m leaving for Moscow tomorrow. I have a friend there; he’ll help me with everything I need.”

“Are you sure, Mark? That’s a long way to go just for insurance.”

Was he sure? “Yes, I’m sure. This matter needs to be completed with caution and precision. Any mistakes and we could all end up on our faces. You know that better than anyone else in our group.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then you’ll understand why I’m leaving.”

“Not really, no, but I know you wouldn’t go if you didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. I’m just worried about what the press will think if they find out about your little escapade. Then the whole world will be wondering why Mark Darrow⎯rising star and evolutionary mastermind⎯had to go to Russia. I mean really, are you paying your respects to the Kremlin in honor of your machine, the Kremlin? You have to admit.”

Mark didn’t much like this new development of sarcasm in James.

“Cut the attitude, James. They don’t have to understand⎯they likely won’t even realize it. If they do, tell them it’s a business trip or a vacation. They’re gullible. They’ll believe it. Are we clear?”

James tsked on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, we’re clear.”

“Good. Then I’ll need you to get everything for the conference set up and take over while I’m gone. Make sure Charles doesn’t blow the story. In fact, you don’t even need to tell them.”

“Oh, so I suppose I should just lie to the entire planet, then?”

“If need be, yes. When did you ever pay attention to morality, James?”

James scoffed at the remark and let it roll off his back. “Everything will be fine while you’re gone.”

“Thank you. I’ll be spending the rest of the day preparing for my trip and working with Theresa and George down in the lab, so I’ll need you to handle all the public relations; make sure everyone’s here tomorrow if they said they would be.”

“Consider it done.”

“Good. I’ll call you when I’ve reached Moscow and we’ll see what needs to happen from there.”

“Have a nice trip, Mark.”

The phone clicked and Mark realized James had hung up the phone. He also realized that he was a bit harsh on his number two, but as he’d made clear, this was serious business, not some high school chemistry experiment.

Mark wondered if was doing the right thing as he sent the e-mail to Radzlov. The man wasn’t exactly known for coming up with solutions in a peaceful, orderly manner. But then again, it didn’t really matter. It simply had to be done.

Mark pressed the send button and switched over to the Atlantic Flight Company’s web page. The price for a commercial flight had gone up considerably since Mark had last flown, but then again so had gas. Everything was going up.

With a swipe of his credit card Mark paid for the entire trip, including the hotel at which he would stay and the concert which he wouldn’t be caught dead attending. It was a package deal.

When that was finished, Mark leaned back in his black leather chair and flipped on music. Beethoven. The Eroica Symphony, a strange, dark harmony that was soothing despite its tone. For a while Mark simply sat back and let the music soak into him, and he thought.

He thought for a very long time.

Soon he decided that his thinking had gone on long enough, so he ended his peaceful hour and headed down to the labs.