Power in the Hands of One Read Online Free PDF Page A

also sow the seeds for what the future should not.”
    I hold up my hand, signaling for him to stop. “Ray, listen. I’m your friend—that’s the only reason I’m here. I don’t endorse any of this. It’s unethical and irresponsible. And it’s one hundred percent insane! Let’s just forget the plan or whatever and call the police.”
    Ray continues like he doesn’t hear me. “They aren’t simply weapons, you know. If the little I read is indicative of anything, these machines are superior to any A.I. to date, and they represent an advanced link between man and machine. There’s a concept Thomas referred to as the Balance. The Balance implies equilibrium between the pilot and the machine; neither can counterbalance the other. This is his model for all future man/machine interaction.”
    Waxing intellectual isn’t my aim. Ray is furthest from reality when he’s talking theory. I need to keep him focused on the concrete details. “What about the third one?” I motion to the blurry figure in the remaining bay, hidden behind the plastic.
    “That one’s a bit of a mystery; documentation is lacking. Its capabilities are unknown, though I imagine it is not unlike the first two—some form of a directed-energy weapon, the ability to cloak itself, satellite and telecommunication devices…”
    I nod like all of this is interesting and not terrifying. There must be a way to convince Ray the situation is hopeless. A hundred-some-foot robot is wandering the countryside—invisible or not, it’s bound to leave destruction in its wake. And we still don’t know what happened to Thomas or if he’s even alive. The situation is in no way manageable.
    Lost in his analysis of Thomas’s notes, Ray rambles on like a fascinated child. He expresses grief in not being included from the beginning—was he not a trusted ally?
    I murmur a halfhearted condolence. Ray’s desire to be complicit in Thomas’s madness is disturbing, as is his shiftiness. He made a claim that these things were intended to start the end of the world. And he was afraid. Now he’s a willing disciple.
    How much should this concern me? Will Ray view me as standing in the way? It’s not clear where the obstinate fit into Thomas Worthington’s master plan. I check my cell phone when Ray isn’t paying attention, thinking it possible to make an emergency call, but there’s no signal. There must be a land line in one of the anterooms. “Ray, have you reviewed the security footage? Maybe we can see who stole the machine.”
    Looking away, Ray says, “I can’t access the system; it’s password protected.”
    I pause, hoping this limitation will resonate with some sense of defeat. “C’mon, Ray, admit it. There isn’t anything you or I can do. We don’t know where Thomas is, and we don’t know who stole the machine. And after what you told me, I don’t think we want it out there…”
    “Wait, stop.” Ray holds up a finger and then points to a flashing red light above the door we came through. “Someone is here.” He races away, limbs flailing.
    Ray’s sense of urgency ignites a delayed reaction in me, and I hurry after him several seconds later. I catch the swinging door as he goes through; then I halt in the doorway.
    Ray is bent over the video surveillance of the parking lot. “Oh, no.”
    “What? What is it?” I ask, hustling over.
    “Illuma Corp agents.” Ray points to the screen where there are three men moving toward the outside door. One of them looks up into the camera as they approach.
    The stoic efficiency in which they move is somehow familiar—like the men with the planes. “Those are Illuma Corp agents?”
    Ray turns, confused. “Yes. You act as if you’ve seen them before.”
    “Never mind that! What do they want?”
    Ray’s eyes lose their bulge, and his mouth returns to its classic neutral expression—the old Ray. “Not what they’re going to get,” he says before moving to a metal storage locker next to the monitor