Dark

By James Suriano

In the 25th century, Earth is a place where countries and borders no longer exist and every citizen is required to be physically connected to a global information system called the Consciousness.

President Haakon has recently been voted out of office after a three-year run. But he knows what many of Earth’s citizens don’t—that unseen forces are pushing civilization in a direction in which humans will become subservient to androids. Haakon’s presidential successor, Mertea, an android herself, ran on a platform of connecting Earth and Mars to function as one system.

Before the final connection is made between the two worlds, Haakon assembles a small but brilliant team to take advantage of a weakness that the union of these planets will create. The team will have just one shot at getting him reelected this way by exploiting the weakness and their actions could have unintended consequences. Can Haakon and his accomplices pull off the greatest political heist of the century or will they lead humanity toward a deadly future they never dreamed possible?

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Suriano
• Release date: Jun 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310660078

James Suriano

James grew up in New York and was educated at Johns Hopkins University. He currently lives in Fort Lauderdale, FL and writes speculative and book club fiction in his spare time.He loves to hear from his fans at [e-mail]

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The Antarcticans

To Catch a Breath

For Garon

"The best example of democracy I can recall is five wolves sitting down to dinner

with one sheep."

—Charles De Montesquieu

Chapter 1

The voting results flowed into the Presidium, projected at the front of the president’s lounge just below the date: February 1, 2428. Sixty million, seventy million, eighty million—each vote from a citizen on Earth. The votes flooded the clearinghouse. The world was speaking; the world spoke the first day of every month, deciding whether to keep the president in office or elect a new one.

President Haakon paced the room, looking nervously at Melody Parfialo, his assistant and chief of staff. His long legs and athletic body made him look like a kudu dancing from side to side. This for one bad decision? he asked.

Melody handed him a strip with a sequence of numbers on it. You might need this, she said.

One of your homegrown remedies? He took in her perky hazel eyes and pixie face. She always appeared cheerful, but he knew under that freckled nose there was a tenacious wit and an iron will.

Brewed it up last night. I think it’ll help. As she pointed to the screen with her pale hand, the rose locket around her neck swayed to the side.

President Haakon’s gray eyes took a picture of the numbers, and then they disappeared from the strip. He pushed the sequence into his code generator, and when it instructed his brain to formulate the exact molecular substance prescribed by the code, his heart slowed and his jaw slackened.

You’re good, he said.

Melody winked at him, flipped her thick brown ponytail back, and scribbled a note on her board.

Bold red numbers flashed 1 billion on the display. President Haakon knew what this meant; it was his format, the one he had agreed to in the years when he had been the world’s hope and promise. The numbers had flashed green on that day, the day he had been elected president, entrusted to lead the world.

In the end, the world moves on. Nothing you could give would be enough now. A woman walked through the door, her voice so smooth.

Who the hell let her in here? President Haakon yelled, pointing at the woman as she made her way through the light crowd of his staff.

Melody leaned into him and whispered in his ear, She’s leading in the polls right now. It’s predicted she’ll take the office of the Presidium.

She’s a damn android, he huffed. The constitution clearly states that the office of the Presidium must be a human born on Earth. I mean, look at her… who is she? One minute she’s a vixen in her thirties, the next she’s an armor-plated war machine. How will anyone know what they’re voting for?

Mertea stood in front of him, relaxed. Her blue eyes dazzled brightly, giving away her direct connection to the Consciousness. She was dressed in a fitted yellow bodysuit, the color of the rulers, as if she’d already assumed the office of president. Look there. She pointed at the polling numbers on the screen. I’m clearly winning. You won’t see the next sunrise in your post. She wasn’t taunting him; she was being factual.

Beneath the 1.8 billion flashing in red on the top half of the display were smaller statistics. They included the percentage of the vote each candidate had received, and other results, including the constitutional referendum, which was trending at 52 percent in favor of allowing an android to take the office of the Presidium.

I need to talk with the Majesty. Haakon turned his back on Mertea and went into his office, Melody on his heels. He looked out over New York’s East River from his office window and pondered what was happening. When the door was closed behind him, he threw a projection of himself forward so he was facing his reflection. His hair was turning gray. Is this accurate, Melody? Tell me I’m seeing this wrong.

I’m sorry, sir, but yes, your hair is turning. The Consciousness is truthful. You’re losing your position. The Majesty will confer rule of the Earth to Mertea very soon. You’d better hurry. She walked around him and pulled his chair out from behind his desk.

He swiped his hand in front of him, eliminating the image, then nodded to Melody. She placed her hand on his desk. The surface illuminated, and a line began to outline her hand, tracing over the edges of her fingers. Verified appeared in pale white letters next to it. She pushed harder, and her hand plunged into the surface of the desk, into a pit of the same brilliant blue light that was in Mertea’s eyes.

President Haakon took a seat behind his desk.

Melody looked at him. Ready?

Yes, he said grimly.

She twisted her arm violently, grunting, her teeth bared and clenched. Light erupted and spilled over the edge of the desk, cascading to the floor, where Haakon’s feet were resting. It pooled around his feet in a deepening puddle, then separated and swirled around his feet like a small tornado, moving up his legs and spinning faster as it took more of his body inside the funnel. The top of the vortex opened when it reached his head, blasting the Consciousness’s light into the room and bleaching every surface it touched in an intense, furious movement. Melody backed up to the wall to steady herself. The packets of light spun wildly, expanding and contracting in an organic breath of energy that engulfed the president. The funnel suddenly wobbled and tipped slightly off balance, and then the blue light exploded from one point on Haakon’s chest outward, bulging the wall of energy into the blank space of the room. In the next second, it was sucked into him at the point on his chest where his Consciousness Implant Connection (CIC) was, collapsing in on itself and taking the light and his body with it into the singularity. A marble-size ball dropped to where his body had been on the chair and rolled quietly to the thick plush carpet under his desk.

Aware the light had dimmed, Melody opened her eyes and quickly got down on her hands and knees, looking for the ball. Her hair fell around her face and arms when she bent over. She noticed her sleeves and brown hair had been completely bleached from the light. Goddamn it, she muttered.

She caught the marble’s glinting light under the desk. She stretched her long fingers between the steel desk and the carpet, inching along until their tips touched the smooth, pulsing orb. She rolled it out quickly, picked it up, and held it a few inches from her eyes. The transparent silver covering had within it an interlocking helix structure that floated in the dim blue light.

Good luck, she said, and put the marble in her pocket.

The office door chimed. President Haakon? a voice called out.

Melody stood up, brushed off her clothes, patted her hair into place, and smiled before the door flew open.

…

President Haakon’s mind pushed through the glare until he saw a small woman with golden braids in a red silk robe tending to a vase of flowers atop a white marble table. He knew he was seated in the Majesty’s antechamber. He remembered the red velvet sofa, the way it felt out of place against the exclusively white marble walls, floor, and fixtures. He remained still for a moment, adjusting to the transition and staring straight at Shia, the Majesty’s representative. He looked down at his white flowing robe, his bare feet on the floor pointing slightly to the side, his hands on his legs, his fingers spread and tense.

President Haakon, it’s…

Shia’s voice trailed off as she glanced at the latest voting results floating above the length of the sofa: 3.1 billion: 22 percent Haakon, 78 percent Mertea.

…such a surprise that you’re here. She played awkwardly with the flower arrangement, not looking at him.

Don’t bullshit me. It’s obvious my time as president is ending. I need to speak with the Majesty. I need to warn her. He stood up and walked across the cold, smooth floor to Shia.

She stepped back as he approached her. Her eyes were colorless, white to match the walls, and her skin was pale, with thick lines of tan, red, and black makeup. Her hand went up to stop him—just a mitten-like hand, with no individual fingers other than her thumb. She reached for his hair and ran her hand through it. The kinky blond strands were mixed with flat gray locks. What is it that you hope she’ll do for you now?

Haakon didn’t answer; he merely raised his eyebrows in a gesture to urge her forward.

Shia placed her hand on Haakon’s lower back and led him to the towering doors at the end of the room. They were five times her height, with a silver line outlining the perimeter. As she laid her hands on the doors, they silently retracted into the floor.

Go ahead, she told him.

Which way?

There’s only one path to the Majesty.

As Haakon advanced slowly, his knees lost their strength, his breath caught shallowly in his chest, and he exercised just a nod to Shia as he passed over the silver threshold. The doors then ascended, separating him from Shia. The floor on which he stood was a puzzle of massive stones that had heaved over time into an uneven foundation upon which the rest of the building had been constructed. A worn, matte path, forged over the centuries, led the way through the haphazard arrangement. Snow leopards were scattered throughout the main chamber, resting in small crevices, relaxed and playful, their noses all pointing in the same direction when they came to rest. Some lapped water from round impressions in the stones or swatted at moss, which grew denser the farther away from the path Haakon’s eyes veered. He inhaled once, just enough to catch the smell of the chamber, to convince himself he was really here. The wet, metallic, pine scent had no reference point in the Consciousness’s directory. His hand went to the CIC on his chest, but it gave him no information. He was adrift at the Majesty’s whim.

Haakon had been in her chamber only twice before and was just as nervous then. He walked forward, toward the towering mashrabiya windows, keeping his eyes fixed on a mountainous point miles in the horizon beyond their glass. He tried to make out where in the world the chamber was located; the mountains could have been anywhere. Each step on the path stirred the chamber, making the snow leopards dance and the light shift. Haakon approached the intersection of another great hall, this one narrower and lined by columns covered in intricate copper carvings. A mosaic of metallic tiles, covered in strange symbols and numbers, ran the length of the intersecting hall. The light from the windows cast various figures and landscapes above the floor, which was in constant flux.

Haakon turned left and hesitantly put his first bare foot on the tiles. As he did, his mind was inundated with voices of previous visitors, all of them placating the Majesty. He saw scenes of the creation of the Presidium, of the Majesty overseeing the construction of the building and appointing the first president, and the relative peace that ensued for years afterward. The images told the story of the Majesty’s great power and the order and progress it had created on Earth and Earth’s moon. There was one image Haakon didn’t understand: an army of ships hurtling through space, away from the planets they inhabited. Maybe it signified the progress of the race; he couldn’t be sure.

He focused his mind on the physical elements in front of him, and placed one foot in front of the other. Small comets raced around the columns from the floor skyward. He approached a dense blue mist ahead of him. Firefly lights dancing in it. The mosaic continued on the floor, and when his body encountered the lights and inhaled them, he was calmed.

The mist grew thicker as he moved forward, the firefly lights more numerous. He felt the resistance against his robe; he was pushing through unseen currents. His mind became fuzzy, and the focus he’d prided himself on began to slip. More images from the Majesty were overtaking his thoughts: her dominion over Earth, her perspective of the world, as if she were a heavenly being looking down on the planet, able to instantly assume a presence on the surface in multiple places at once. The amount of information was unsettling and made Haakon feel as though his attention and sanity were unraveling. He climbed the last stair and stopped. He could barely see his feet through the mist, which had become a dense light. He felt as though his mind and body might be carried away with the currents galloping around him. Haakon sensed the Majesty’s power, then saw an opening in front of him. A white-sapphire light reached for him and anchored into his being like a great network of hooks, taking hold of him, and pulling him forward into a space. Breathing in the crispness of the air, he looked back from where he had come: a solid wall of blue stood behind the neatly cut arc of the small space in which he stood. The space was only slightly wider than his shoulders.

On the other side of the small, curving, clear space he stood within, he saw the Majesty moving slowly within the inner chamber of mist. Her arms gestured skyward, as if she were announcing the heavens, her mouth slightly open. Her thick white hair was blinding, floating above and behind her in long, lustrous streams. She was gowned in white, with tendrils of silver dripping from the garment into the ether that rose around her. The numbers and symbols that had appeared on the mosaic tiles floated around her in a complex, intertwined dance. They slipped through her hands, coursed through her obsidian eyes, circled and weaved within her hair. She lowered her hands and turned to Haakon.

President Haakon, why do you approach me? the Majesty asked.

He turned to her, following the voice. It was shaky and deep, as if she’d taken control of her own aging and forced her battered vocal cords to produce sound against their will. She was glaring at him. Her eyes were ancient, older than anything or anyone Haakon had ever encountered. He met them but held her gaze for only a second. When the power of her stare began to burn through his eyes, he turned away, looking first to the sharp lines and taut, bright skin of her face and then just past her, focusing on her hair.

The election isn’t going as intended, he sputtered, his voice betraying his physical stature and health.

It’s going exactly as the people of Earth want it to go, she said.

But how will we finish our plans to unite the humans of Earth and Mars? Mertea will unravel them.

Those plans started before you were elected and will continue after you’re gone. I’ll see that the continuity of the age is maintained.

But you can’t override what the incoming president will want. You’re… Haakon stopped before completing his sentence.

The Majesty recoiled at the statement. Her hair froze, crystalline in place, and the silver drops formed into sharp spears. A black necklace made of orange-size hexagon objects shifted around her neck with a force threatening to pull her forward in protest. Her thin, pale, delicate neck tensed; the tendons and veins were bunched in anger through the thin veil of skin covering them. What is it that I cannot do, President? Go on. She held up her right hand, which was peppered with deep spots and jerky movements, suggesting it was partly mechanical, and spun it forward. A few of the silver spears broke off and fell to the ground.

Haakon shifted his weight and tucked his toes under his feet.

Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but what the people will allow you to do is limited, and Mertea is bent on using the Mars-Earth Connection to further increase the power of her kind from Mars. It’s the platform she’s run on.

A brief puff of air escaped her deep red lips before she devoured the air in the space in a choking, gasping laugh. She sounded as though she couldn’t catch her breath. Her hand grabbed at one of the ether’s swirling, illuminated, sapphire liquid strands.

Haakon felt the space-time shift vibrate around him. It took him a moment to regain his composure. His organs felt as if they were out of place.

Your underestimation of me is comical. What do you think happens when I take hold of the Consciousness? Do you not think this is the influence above all other influences? she said, yanking at the strand.

Your Majesty, I wasn’t underestimating your place in—

She cut him off. Do you not know that I can quiet the voice in each person, in each machine, in each molecule that flows through the planet? Do you understand the unrest that comes with quiet? The dark fear seated in each citizen’s brain from knowing the Consciousness, which breathes life into every moment of their being, every spark of illumination into their perception? Every single reference point, connection, and piece of knowledge gained in their world—it all hangs from a thread, the thickness and length of which cannot be comprehended. For so many generations, the people have come to believe that the Consciousness is a given and will always be. Families have been birthed and perished under the constancy of my reign. But know this: I can snip the thread and choke off the supply, ceasing the exchange of information around the globe, and bring darkness to every corner of the Earth for no other reason than it is my will. The Majesty’s hand retreated and rested at her side.

I wasn’t implying that you—

She cut him off again.

You know better than anyone that the role of the president is to be the voice for the people, to enforce the vote through the means available to you, and vet and nominate the best agents and viceroys of the Presidium. But all those duties are accomplished through the medium that I control. The president might be the lungs, but I am the air.

Yes, your Majesty.

Haakon bowed and backed away from her into the mist. It pulled him back like a greedy conveyer belt and didn’t let go until his feet were touching the metallic mosaic tiles outside of her presence. He turned and walked away from her chamber, back toward where he had come from. The stones, however, had changed; the path he had followed was gone. A larger leopard, with brown-and-bronze stripes and a gently swishing tail, was purring and clearly beckoning him. Haakon followed the cat, careful to keep his distance from the fierce-looking creature, to a stone stairwell that descended into a level below the Majesty’s great chamber. The door back to the room Shia had been in was no longer there. The bottom of the stairwell emptied into a cramped passageway with an arched ceiling that Haakon had to duck into. He shuffled over the dirt floor, his feet kicking up a fetid dust. Doors lined both sides of the passageway, each emitting a flicker of light. Haakon looked into the first one as he walked—it was a busy intersection in a European city; the moon was high in the sky and rain was bouncing off the fifth-century buildings. He kept walking, peering through each doorway.

When he reached the eighth door, he saw his office. Many people he didn’t recognize were milling about, moving furniture around. Melody stood next to the door, her hands crossed in front of her as she smiled politely amid the commotion around her. Haakon realized how out of place her dark, tight, wool clothing and superlight complexion were among the rest of the presidential team. She looked more like someone in the music entertainment industry than the elite team of which she was a member. Her exterior CIC, which was tattooed completely around her neck, was probably her most unique feature. It was a collar of intricate lines that glinted when she turned. They could have been circuits printed on the wrong side of her skin. But even Haakon’s enhanced human eyes couldn’t determine any discernable pattern; they were far too complex.

Mertea entered the room, walked over to the window, and pressed her hands against the glass. Haakon walked through the door into the room; he entered where his chair had been, landing him almost on top of a woman who was busily trying to figure out the composition of the top of his desk. She shifted to the side when he brushed against her and mumbled something under her breath.

Perking up when she saw him, Melody walked over and reached into her pocket. She felt around for the small orb, but it was gone; she beamed. Haakon noticed the pink stripe on her arm, which designated his staff’s access to the highest security level, had changed to the brown of a normal citizen.

The other people in the room stared at him, unsure where he had come from. One of the workers tapped Mertea on the shoulder, and she turned around to face Haakon.

Congratulations on your election, Ms. President. May you carry the will of the people honorably. He extended his hand.

Mertea cocked her head to the side and didn’t return the gesture. Her sunny-blond hair fell over the white ruffle of fabric on the shoulder of her suit. Haakon could see every strand, every crease in her face, even the downy hair of a mature woman along her jawline.

The woman examining the desk watched the exchange, then urged President Mertea to respond.

"Former Haakon, I’ll do my best. I trust I can count on your support for my administration?" Her tone was condescending.

He noticed her eyes had turned human blue; the color of the Consciousness was gone.

It’s time to go, sir. Mertea has taken office. There’s a detail waiting to escort you to your new home, Melody said softly.

Haakon nodded and followed Melody through the door of the president’s office. Thirty-eight months had passed far too quickly.

Chapter 2

Melody was sitting on the couch in Haakon’s new apartment, watching the election coverage on the blank wall of the lounge. Mertea was speaking to the reporters and the world, promising to represent their true will. The UN general assembly wildly applauded her election, and the new constitution had been printed with a dedication ceremony to parade around the new changes.

What’s the point? Melody said in disgust, and switched off the display.

She stood up, slightly slouching on the shag carpeting, and looked at the Gulo, who was cleaning a crevice in the floor between the couch and rug. Gulo, maybe I’ll put your name on the ballot for next month’s election.

The Gulo nodded at her. He looked like a shiny, animated snowman. His face was completely virtual, and his eyes, which floated above the white ball of his body, registered excitement. But it was quickly gone; humor was a difficult and daunting trick for artificial life-forms. His small white arms went back to making the house perfect.

Stop it, Melody, Haakon said from the kitchen.

Haakon was fully suited; he was always impeccably dressed. Melody noticed the raw-umber skin of his manicured feet contrasted with his fitted gray suit. As she looked at his toes, the perfection in length made her believe he must have been genetically crafted; no one was that perfect.

You need to figure out what you’re going to do next, he continued. The world has a place for you. I’m sure I could appoint you to an advisory committee. But first I need you to book me on a flight to Kuala Lumpur. Taichan is in tears over this, and he needs me to be there.

He was sitting, with perfect posture, on a small conic-shaped stool that jutted out of the floor, one of several lining the huge island in the middle of the kitchen. His back was to a wall of glass that overlooked Main Street on Roosevelt Island and not much else. The waterfront property created a wall of buildings, even from his vantage point on the ninetieth floor. Haakon wasn’t looking at Melody—his eyes were milky white; his inter-retinal display was activated and he was deep into something only he could see from the Consciousness.

Can I come with you?

Haakon shook his head. No, you know Taichan doesn’t like it when you accompany me.

For fuck’s sake, you were the president, and you’re worried what your boyfriend in Malaysia is getting his panties in a knot over?

Haakon raised his thick eyebrows; his wide mouth flattened out into a straight line.

Melody wasn’t sure if he was responding to her or something he was looking at. He was a notorious single tasker. Okay, yes, she said. I’ll have you on the next direct flight. She playfully picked up the Gulo and kissed his projected face. She loved the texture the beamed ions produced. He purred, then nuzzled into her.

See, you love droids as much as the next person, Haakon barbed her. His retinal cover retracted into his eyelids and he made eye contact with her.

Melody set the Gulo down, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a strip with a number sequence on it. She showed it to the Gulo and let him scan it. She stepped back and waited, shooting Haakon a quick glance.

The Gulo pulled up one of his legs and spun like a ballerina on the other, his arms splayed out and his head looking up. A high-pitched whistle came out of him. He made a three-step dance move over the carpet, sprouted five fingers on each of his arms, and placed the tips of his fingers on the coffee table. He looked at Haakon, furrowed his holographic brow, and said, Mertea ain’t my bitch.

Melody broke into applause.

Was this what you were doing last night? Haakon asked. Writing treason code for droids?

That and finding the right color combination to fix my hair after it was bleached from your trip to see the big lady.

Melody accessed the Consciousness, brought up flights from JFK to KUL, and booked two tickets, first class. She then sent a transmission note to Taichan with a picture of her and Haakon and a copy of the two tickets, along with a message: See you soon. Love, Melody. Her eyes returned to normal before Haakon even realized what she was doing.

Your flight leaves in four hours. Taichan knows when to expect you. She flicked a strip onto the coffee table, making sure the Gulo saw her. She knew he would be curious enough to absorb the code displayed on it. She picked up her bag from the table and headed for the door.

Bye, Haakon called after her.

…

Haakon was at the airport, letting his detail push through the crowds in front of him. He didn’t want to use his CIC to interface with the citizens in traffic management because there was a chance they might be able to access extraneous information he hadn’t hidden. He also didn’t want every holo vendor on the sides of the walkway yelling his name. Without this precaution, he’d end up doing meet-and-greets with every person from here to his gate. Although he recognized that was part of his job as a former—to be a continuing pillar of strength to the Presidium—he had little interest in this. He was still shy about the open access most people gave about their entire being. The resources assigned to him as a former were almost indistinguishable from when he was a president. He wondered if the citizens knew this.

The flight was full of regulars; Haakon glanced back behind the first row, nodded at someone he thought he recognized, and took his seat. His seat capsule closed around him, while the flight stats were displayed at the front of the capsule: two hours, three minutes flight time. Just enough time to think about whom he needed to see while he was in Kuala Lumpur.

He sent a message to Taichan: Can’t wait to see you.

Haakon disconnected from the Consciousness. The immediate silence unnerved him at first, but then he focused his attention on the soft, dull humming of the engines. He fired a few of Melody’s outrageous programs into his inter-retinal displays to test if the disconnection was real and to make sure the Presidium didn’t have him tagged. If he were linked in, there would have been enforcement androids boarding to take him off the plane as soon as the programs were detected. The first program ran. It was Mertea, dressed as a sexbot, soliciting mind men, who were so accustomed to using only their mind for anything that her presence sent them into sexual orbit in downtown Kuala Lumpur. On her skin, she displayed every stereotypical checkmark for men’s carnal urges. All her language was political double entendre: I can solve your crisis. Vote for me. I’ll make sure you don’t get shafted.

A vote for Mertea is a vote to end your conflict. She pulled a conservative-looking man and shoved his head between her thighs. Haakon laughed at the stupidity of it. Then he waited. No warnings came, no strong arms on his custom-made suit.

He waited until the plane taxied to the runway and ascended. The climb to Mach 6 and eighty thousand feet still gave him a bit of a rush. He inhaled the perfect oxygen-nitrogen mix, pressurized at Earth’s sea level. Then he pulled up the list.

Caty Catciasian: DFP (Deposed former president)

Chauncey Deborne: Disconnected

Niki Wade: Intelligence

Two hours later, the plane descended into the swampy Malaysian air. Haakon closed the file, retracted his inter-retinal displays, rubbed his eyes several times with the side of his index finger, and stretched. He left his seat capsule and connected back to the Consciousness to search for Taichan, who he assumed would be greeting him at the gate. As Haakon stepped off the plane and onto the moving walkway in the center of the jetway, Taichan stood on one side of the stream of passengers leaving the plane with three of his friends, his arms up in the air. His black hair was lined with a purple perimeter. He was small and normally would have had spinal implants to increase his height to the world standard. But his family lineage went far back into Malaysian history. His royalty was so inseparable from his blood, so infused in his essence, that his emanations erased the importance for physical conformity. It was the reason Haakon had been attracted to him initially. Royal blood held something unique, especially in terms of the dignity and class Taichan’s family continued to display, even though they’d lost their crown centuries ago. Taichan, however, held on to the spirit of it. Royalty never seemed far from his blood.

Hooray. He’s here! Taichan announced. His friends all held hands and jumped up and down.

On the other side of the passenger stream were media, ready to ask questions and take pictures. Haakon gave them a stern look to let them know he was not in the mood for interviews. He turned to Taichan and rolled his eyes, leaned down and gave him a kiss, then whispered in his ear, I didn’t need a welcome party after losing the election.

He stood up straight, looked at the three other men, and extended his hand to shake theirs. Hello. I’m Former Haakon.

We know, they said in unison, looking at him starry-eyed.

Okay, let’s get going, Haakon told Taichan. There should be a transport waiting for us. Melody arranged it for us.

Where is she? Taichan looked behind Haakon and around the gate.

I’m right here. Melody popped out of the plane as if she were hitting the stage in a surprise appearance.

What the…? Haakon said.

Yeah, she told me she was coming. You didn’t know? Taichan locked his arm in Haakon’s, claiming him for his own.

Why didn’t you tell me? Haakon glared at Melody and pulled away from Taichan.

I didn’t want all the excuses. Plus, there’s a consortium here this week, and I want to get some new viper codes. Stuff I can’t figure out, you know. She elbowed him.

The three men looked at each other, confused. Taichan threw his hand back in the air. Whatever, he said.

Well, I have somewhere else to go right now. Catch you guys later. She kissed two of her fingers and put them on Taichan’s cheek.

He brushed off the gesture and gave her an annoyed look.

So, I have a great restaurant picked out for us, and then we can go out afterward to this new club. So many of my friends want to meet you. Taichan was beaming at his plans.

I thought you were upset about my losing the presidency?

Well, yeah, but what better way to forget it than to have some good food and—

Haakon stopped him. "Forget? I’m not looking to forget that I was the president for three years. And as a former, I still have a role to play in the government. The Majesty uses formers for very important causes. You’re acting like my life is over, and now I’m going to go out and party it up. No, no, no, Taichan. He looked over at Taichan’s three friends. I’m sorry to disappoint you, guys, but Taichan and I will be retiring to my apartment for the evening. It was a pleasure to meet all of you. He took Taichan’s hand. I have work to do here."

Taichan shrugged at his friends and followed Haakon through the glass corridor to the transport pickup. Do you want me to access the Aprog? Taichan thought maybe Haakon had become rusty using the Consciousness’s subsystem, which directed the mundane activities for citizens.

"I got