Bryce stood frozen, a statue of grief and rage sculpted by his own power, utterly oblivious to the destruction around him. His mind had shattered, hurtling thirty-six years into the past.
---
36 Years Ago
A younger Bryce Onyx, his face unlined by the centuries to come, strode into the White House. He moved with the easy confidence of a man who owned the very ground he walked on.
He bypassed the Receptive Cabinet where high-profile figures—Yakkov, Prime Minister of Israel, Louis President of France, Rames governmental official of Egypt—waited for their security clearances. He offered them a casual, dismissive greeting before moving on. His face and fingerprints were his access; every checkpoint opened for him without a question, a silent testament to his influence.
"Xax, I have good news," Bryce announced, sweeping into the Presidential Cabinet. He tossed the country's flag aside and dragged a chair next to the desk.
A younger Xax Rask, President of the United States, was buried in files, a sorting machine whirring beside him. He didn't look up. "Bryce. What is it?"
"Busy as always." Bryce chuckled. "I'm glad your tenure is almost over. You'll find a better use for your time."
"Is my father's company the better use?" Xax asked, finally glancing up. Bryce offered no reply, his silence an answer in itself.
"You know my passion is politics, Bryce. That's where my talent lies. If not for my father's expectations and a passing intrigue for science, I'd never have touched that field."
"We can survive without politicians. We can't survive without science," Bryce countered, his voice flat.
"Speaking of which," Xax's tone turned serious. He pushed the files aside but held one steadily. "I've been thinking. The enlightened, people like us, should be the ones ruling. Not those old money-puppets in the Congress. They only care about GDP and their own pockets. They rule by the limited reality their brains can project."
"I thought I was the only one who saw it that way. Our minds are in sync." Bryce's eyes gleamed with a cold fire. "I'll meet with the others. We can tweak the distribution of our inventions, win the masses. But that's not why I'm here. I'm close, Xax. My latest product extends the human lifespan from fifty to three hundred years. If not for government restrictions, we'd have achieved immortality by now." He grinned, a flash of triumphant pride.
"Another reason scientists should rule. Just take a look at this." Xax slid a file across the desk.
It contained a NATO agreement to stall the distribution of solar-powered devices in developing nations to maintain control over their oil reserves.
"They're too greedy," Bryce chuckled, a sound without warmth. "They publicly promote clean energy but strangle it in private. All for their selfish interests."
**************
The White House dissolved, replaced by the sterile light of an underground bunker beneath Onyx Medical.
A slim, elderly man tinkered with a quantum computer. Bryce sat beside him, a cohort of scientists watching over their shoulders.
"Whoop! I've breached their Ray-Ban security wall!" the man exclaimed. "The feed is yours. Feed them data without any glitches."
Bryce inserted a flash drive into a connected processor. His fingers flew across the interface. Code scrolled at blinding speed for three straight minutes. He stood up. "It's done."
"How?" the man sputtered. "It took me eight minutes to breach, two to hack. It took you three minutes to generate the prompts and loop the structures? How?"
"Thanks to the computer," Bryce said, deftly deflecting the envy thickening the air. "Now the real work begins. You must constantly update the data. Guide the processor to create a simulation indistinguishable from reality."
Phones were extinct, replaced by augmented reality glasses. The bunker had hummed with activity for three days straight.
Now, Bryce and the other scientists clustered in the dining room, watching a live feed from the A.R. glasses of the British Prime Minister. He was signing a document that approved the Caliph Accord. He was not alone.
They had hacked the augmented reality of world's most powerful politicians. They had bribed parliamentary aides to swap mundane documents for devastating ones—documents that approved the transfer of ultimate power to the Caliphs; a council of scientists and CEOs, dismantling elections in the name of "efficiency." Through the hacked glasses, the politicians saw only what they expected to see.
Bryce stood, smiling. He imagined a new, rational world order, a perfectly engineered society. The messy, emotional business of democracy was a problem they had finally solved.
"We will see each other next week at the Convention. I need to go home. My wife is worried." Bryce said as he packed his suitcase.
Not everyone in the bunker knew of the convention, but those who did nodded grimly.
"Bryce, wait. Let's discuss outside." Elara scrambled for her thermal glasses and escorted him out.
"You should know," she said, her voice low, "the meteorite my team found on Pluto isn't a rock. It's a fascinating organism. It mimics surrounding objects. It's at Mary Johnson in D.C. If we move against the government, they might seize it. Its potential is… massive."
"Xax told me. I've visited it three times. I named it Diego. It reminds me of Ego, from those old movies I loved as a kid. The father of Peter Quill."
"Bryce, I'm serious." Elara's tone sharpened, laced with anger.
"Fine. Bring it to my lab tomorrow. Quietly." He reclaimed his stern demeanor, joined his convoy, and drove off.
*************
The day of the convention arrived. Publicly, a global summit. Privately known as The Illuminati.
The Illuminati—a classified society of shadow rulers, centuries old, driven into secrecy by baseless rumors of devil-worship. They met at the United Nations Headquarters in New York. The area was locked down, every camera disabled, the streets cleared for tinted convoys.
The meeting proceeded normally until a disturbance rippled through the hall.
Those wearing augmented reality glasses cried out, swatting at a sudden, impenetrable blackness that filled their vision. They sprang from their seats in confusion. Their guards circled them, weapons half-raised, baffled.
The U.S. President, the scientists, and the CEOs remained calm, retrieving documents from their briefcases. One president, Yakkov, also stayed seated, calm as he read the documents one by one.
Tension, fear, and confusion enveloped the room like a poison gas.
The world leaders, confused, ripped off their glasses—and their confusion turned to horror as they saw the real documents before them.
Veins bulged in temples as deadly stares locked onto the CEOs and Scientists.
The Presidents' guards sprang into action, leveling their weapons.
The guards of the CEOs and Scientists retaliated, a standoff of steel and intent.
The FBI Director, sitting near Xax, stood up, pulling out a prototype Kinetic Side Arm and aiming it at the Presidents' guards. Some of the guards shivered.
"Raymond. Xax. You are part of this." Yakkov said, his face a failed mask of calm.
Bryce cleared his throat. "Hmmm, hmmm. Apologies for the glitch. After today, such pressures will be beneath you. Democracy is evolving. We are introducing the Caliph Accord."
"What are you talking about?" voices shouted from the crowd.
Dr. Elara Vex stood. "We, the scientists, are the most enlightened. For humanity's own good, we must be the ones to rule. The right to vote for a president is hereby neutralized. Power will reside with the CEOs of the forty most valuable companies. They can be impeached by the masses if they fail. You current presidents may remain as vice presidents, if you wish."
"Enough! This is foolishness! Why would we ever agree to this?" the President of Scotland roared, slamming his hand on the table.
"The masses will never agree!" the President of Japan echoed.
Bryce chuckled. "But you've already agreed. Every one of you. The decrees are signed." He pointed to the files.
A frantic silence fell as they scanned the documents. "When did we sign this?" one whispered, aghast.
"If we can make you see nothing," Xax replied coolly, "we can make you see anything, and one more thing. Democracy is about the people choosing. So we will let them vote on this. If they accept, we rule. If they reject, we step down."
Yakkov, the calmest in the room, stood. "Even if the masses betray us, our militaries will stand with us. Do not start World War Three. Our weapons are too devastating. It would be the end of humanity." He turned and walked out.
A deadly quiet filled the hall, the Presidents' stares more violent than any shout.
A shiver ran down Bryce's spine as he imagined a war-torn Earth.
A premonitory cold shiver shot down Bryce's spine. The image of a war-torn Earth, scorched by the very weapons they had created, flashed behind his eyes. Will humanity survive itself? The doubt was a serpent in his mind. He crushed it, forcibly recollecting his nerve. 'They are pawns,' he assured his trembling conscience. 'They don't have the guts for war.'"
*********
Present Day
In Silicon Canyon, Elara's rover screeched to a halt amid the chaos. Cadets frantically briefed her. She called Bryce's name, but he was lost to the past, muttering as her voice tried to pull him back.
"I should have listened to Yakkov."
The memory of the UN faded, replaced by something darker, more devastating. A memory that would break him completely.