Angel Avengers

By Paul Miller

This is the story of the Rogers Family and how they became the pre-eminent family on the planet

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9780994804709

Book preview

27

Chapter 1

February 2018 – The Citadel

Indiscriminate gunfire from hundreds of AK 47s—the terrorist’s weapon of choice—are crashing down from the cliffs above the Citadel; an impregnable fortress nestled in the snowy arms of the Hindu Kush. It is the headquarters of Sharif Khan, the notorious mass murderer of men, women, and children. He is the perpetrator of many heinous crimes against humanity for beheadings and burning to death of ‘infidels’ as he so affectionately refers to us.

Bullets pour down on them like a rainy day in May striking the girl’s gleaming maroon combat armor with fragments ricocheting into the night sky like so many fireflies. An incoming rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) streaks toward the girls, Jennifer’s HUD (head-up display) warns her of the incoming projectile. She turns and fires several blasts from her particle cannons. Flashes from her weapon light up the night sky like the Fourth of July as they destroy the incoming projectile. The concussion wave and shrapnel from the exploding missile slams Jennifer and her Mother on their asses. Jennifer pulls herself together and continues the battle to save her family.

With each passing moment, Samantha’s anxiety level increases well past the breaking point. Jennifer’s HUD picks up numerous blips coming from the mountain pass above them. It’s looking more and more like a trap, not a big surprise.

Betsy, some folks are coming in behind us, Jen exclaims looking over her shoulder.

Send Baby 5 and 6 to the back side of the Citadel; our scanners have picked up 100s of blips coming in from the northwest—I doubt they’re mountain goats, they can’t get to us; we have more than we can handle down here. Take them out.

Roger that, Babies 5 and 6 lock weapons and head for the mountain pass above them.

Jen is glancing around struggling to improvise a strategy. Her intellect and training, although formidable, has not prevented her brain from turning to tapioca. 

We are getting the snot kicked out of us here. It’s like standing in a fuck’en hailstorm, Jen growls into her comms.

When will Hector arrive? Jennifer’s Mother asks.

Well—we have 7 or 8 hundred guys coming up the valley from the south. They will be here in 6 minutes. Jon will arrive in 8; you see the problem.

Jon Hector and his flight of F-22 Raptors are closing at 1300 mph.

Samantha, for the first time, feels real fear.

Does Hector know?

Yes, it’s why he’s coming in at Mach 2, Jen replies as she turns to the west. Let’s hope he can make it in time.

Sam looks lovingly at her Daughter, let’s hope we’re still here when he does.

Hector is shouting into his comms.

JEN—JENNIFER—come back.

He’s been monitoring the action and knew this could go sideways, his hi-tech helmet preventing him from wiping away his blurred vision.

I’d better get back to him before he has a cow,

Dog two, this is dog one, we are okay, for the moment, but we are taking heavy fire. Approach on vector 161, sweep west to east. It is imperative you contact me before your bomb run. I’m going to try something—if you do not hear from us again; it didn’t work, you can blast those bastards all over the frick’ en mountainside; we won’t be here.

What the hell does that mean? Hector in full on stress mode.

JON—JUST FUCK’EN DO IT, Jen is losing her cool.

OKAY—Jesses. Roger that—we’re on our way, Hector yields.

Sam cuts in, my HUD is telling me we’re surrounded.

That’s good; we can shoot in any direction, Jen smirks.

Cute.

Hector and his squadron are on afterburners having left the USS Nimitz late because of lousy weather. His flight is coming in hot.

Jen’s mind is spinning out. Sam cuts in.

He’s going to do whatever it takes to save us—and your Baby—you know that. He will fly his F-22 straight into the goddamn mountain if need be, Sam laments. And we have a C-130 with their communications blacked out, so the enemy cannot detect them—arriving in 17 minutes to drop an air-fuel bomb on the Citadel that will kill everything within a mile radius—as a backup if we fail.

As Sam is speaking several 30 mm anti-aircraft shell smashes flush on her faceplate, it sets her back on her haunches, her HUD flickers and goes out.

Jennifer—my HUD’s gone; I can’t see.

Hang on—do not drop your outer shell.

Jen hangs her head. Hundreds of bad guys are coming up the valley to kill us. Jon may be too late. My Mother is blind. A C-130 is coming to obliterate everything, and we can’t get Dad on the uplink. It feels like we have one foot in hell. Hell—we have both feet!

Jen realizes if she does not do something drastic to protect her family, she won’t have one.

I’m going out there. If I do not come back, you know what these assholes will do to you if you’re captured.

As per protocol and without discussion, Samantha and Jennifer set the self-destruct on their nuclear-powered cannons. If they blow together, it will make Hiroshima look like a firecracker.

Tears are running down Jen’s, delicate 18-year-old face.

Mommy—I’m afraid—I love you.

Love you too my little one.

They are up against the tyranny of time. Jennifer walks into the black emptiness of jagged rocks and boulders silhouetted by the fires burning behind her. She makes a marvelous target. She’s met with hundreds of muzzle flashes that dot the dark horizon like shooting stars. Jennifer disappears into the obsidian night.

Chapter 2

Twenty-four years earlier

A loving couple is basking in the sun doing what young people do when at university. They are snuggling and playing like puppies. It is a marvelous fun and crazy time. Richard Bartley Rogers and Samantha Caroline Kennedy, and yes, she is a distant member of the clan, have known each other since grade school. Samantha is laying on her back with her head moving around Richard’s lap to elicit the reaction she is getting. She is being flirtatious and knows it, so does he. They’re supposed to be studying; that’s not happening. They are one soul in two bodies, they have been like that as long as they can remember. He looks down at her with lustful admiring eyes, runs a finger over her lips. A shiver darts through Sam’s body. They scamper off to her dorm.

God rarely puts two people together who were so destined to be, but HE has. Richard and Samantha are Canadians. Sam’s Father is a U.S. citizen and a Kennedy, giving her dual citizenship. His influential connections will come in handy.

They have a strong sexual attraction to each other—a tremendous understatement. Many of Sam and Richard’s roommates wonder when they have time to study. Samantha graduated with an MBA and a Ph.D. in theoretical physics. Richard receives a Ph.D. in computer science and mechanical engineering, with a minor in particle physics. Both are always at the top of their class.

A few years later, they’re married and settled down to what both expect to be a long, blissful, productive, unfettered life—who knew the horrific future waiting for them.

They begin their married lives with the birth of Jennifer Ann. 4 years later, twin boys arrive, Addacus Ronald, and Jacob Christian, forever referred to as—the boys. The boys were typical little rascals that Jennifer helps raise. Jennifer was with them so much when they were little, they called her ‘Momo’ an allusion to ‘Mother.’

When on a road trip, the boys were overly boisterous, Richard remarked, if you boys don’t behave, I’ll come back there and beat you with a stick. They took him literally and were quite upset. Richard would never do that, and in fact, he has never raised a hand to any of his children. But it stuck as a cute remark when anyone in the family had done something untoward. It becomes part of Roger’s family lore, a metaphor for doing anything naughty or silly by any member of the family that requires the proverbial stick.

VERITAS CORPORATION – Head Office – Northern Ontario – Canada

Richard’s Father, Jonathan Nathaniel Rogers is CEO and President of Veritas Corporation, a closely held family company worth roughly 11 billion dollars. Veritas is a leading designer and manufacturer of advanced weapon platforms, (AI) artificially intelligent software, and quantum computers. Their primary customer is the United States government and DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. Richard has developed a business and personal relationship with an American Air Force Five-Star General, Charles C. Black. His friends call him Blacky. Blacky worked closely with the Rogers family during the early years and was later designated U.S. liaison to Veritas. He is Godfather to Jennifer.

Blacky realized Jennifer was exceptional even before Jennifer’s parents may have. When the family visited him at his Seattle home, Jen cracked a middle-level naval code, when she was nine. He asked her not to tell anyone, or he may be in trouble for leaving documents open on his desk. She leaned up to him, with a smile only a 9-year girl can—kissed him on the cheek, ‘it will be our little secret—I love you.’ Blacky would do anything for Jennifer, and he will.

Richard’s job becomes head of research and development, Sam, the more important role of Mother. Richard’s Father retires soon after—and his son becomes President and CEO—Sam—Vice-President.

Life settles into loving, blissful, domesticity.

Chapter 3

Turkey

Years later the family travels to Istanbul, Turkey for some fun and relaxation in a city rich in ancient history. It is a business trip for Richard. He’s asked by the Turkish government to help defend against terrorist attacks and cyber incursions of their infrastructure. On the last day, Richard and his boys Addacus and Jacob decided to do some last-minute shopping, so off they go. Jennifer and Samantha pack up and get ready to go home.

The sun is beating down on the boy’s little white faces that stick out like raisins in porridge. The turbaned, grizzly faced men and smiling women of the Souk watch the infidels as they move from store to kiosk. Daddy and his boys are oblivious to the suspicious crowds around them enjoying the time together. Richard’s security team who frequently travel with him and two plain-clothed Turkish police officers are becoming nervous and want to get back to the safety of the hotel. Richard is about to buckle the boys in when—

An RPG screams down the street and takes out the lead truck, throwing the lead SUV into the air like a toy—bursts into a ball of flames landing on a second-floor restaurant patio, upside down, crushing unsuspecting patrons wolfing down lunch. Richard scrambles to cover his boys throwing his body over them. Bullets are coming in from all sides killing the remaining guards.

Richard grabs a discarded weapon and fights back, taking out four men in quick succession. He realizes they are not trying to kill them; they want him alive; the realization sends a shiver of terror down his spine. A stun grenade knocks Richard to the pavement. His last recollection is seeing his precious boys, screaming and crying for their Daddy as they have their hands and feet zip-tied and black bags forcefully yanked over their heads. They throw Richard’s terrified children into the back of an SUV like so much of garbage. Richard—terror-stricken—struggles to get to his feet. He is struck in the face by the butt end of a terrorist machine gun and falls unconscious. The attackers fled the area disappearing into the alleyways and backstreets of the town.

CONTINENTAL NETWORK NEWS—BREAKING NEWS—DICK COCKSWORTHY REPORTING

AT 2:31 THIS AFTERNOON TERRORISTS KIDNAPPED THREE CANADIANS IN TURKEY IN BROAD DAYLIGHT. TAKEN WERE THE CEO OF VERITAS CORP. RICHARD ROGERS AND HIS TWIN BOYS. VERITAS IS A LEADING SUPPLIER OF TECHNOLOGY, ENGINEERING, AND MANUFACTURING OF ELECTRONICS. SHARIF KHAN HAS CLAIMED RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE CRIME. RUMORS ARE VERITAS HAS CONNECTIONS TO DARPA AND THAT MAYBE THE REASON FOR THE KIDNAPPING.

VERITAS—I THINK IT MEANS ‘TRUTH AND KINDNESS’ NOT SURE WHY THAT POPPED INTO MY HEAD.

WE HAVE A FABULOUS PANEL TO DISCUSS THE KIDNAPPING ‘AD INFINITUM.’

Al-Qaida camp Sothern Azerbaijan:

Richard opens his eyes to see a world no one should; a large bearded creature is standing over him with a Kalashnikov pointed at his head.

I woke up in a makeshift medical facility wrapped in bloody bandages. I felt like my head was about to explode. I had no idea how long I was out; my first concern was for my children.

Where are my boys? I asked. I do not get a reply. No one is making eye contact with me, not sure that’s good or bad.

A striking figure of a man dressed in white flowing robes purposely strides up to Richard’s bedside.

In flawless English, Do you know who I am? Richard squints through his bloodied eyes.

Yes.

Excellent, so if I ask you to do something, you will do it knowing the consequences—yes.

Yes.

You have supplied weapons and other assistance to my enemies. Have you not?

I’m not aware what people do with what we sell them, but I’m on vacation, sorry—was on vacation. I do not bear you or your people any malice.

I felt lying was appropriate for the situation

Where are my children?

I will ask the questions. We have contacted your wife; she is negotiating your release.

I don’t care what you do with me, please—do not hurt my children, they have nothing to do with this. For God’s sake, they’re just children.

Khan shows no expression, no emotion.

Your wife is, how you say, being a hardass. We wanted 50 million for your lives; Sam, as you call her, talked us down to 30.

I understand; I live with her, a smile crosses Khan’s face.

Let’s see how this plays out. I will return.

Richard yells after Khan as he walks away,

I want to see my children. You hurt them, and it will go badly for you. My family will come after you, Khan walks briskly back to Richard.

Really—we will see. You have a wife and Daughter, females. What can they possibly do against tens of thousands of my jihadists and The Great Khan?

He laughs. The West is powerless to do anything about us. They do not want to get involved—I kill you-you will be a minor tremor, a mere comment, in the current news cycle, nothing else. You Americans talk the big talk, but you do little. Why do you think we get away with these so-called terrorist attacks? You are all cowards; you are not willing to die for a cause—we are. No one will come for you—or your boys. Live with it.

Richard yells after Khan. I’m Canadian, asshole.

The Lugal Hotel—Turkey

The ransom’s paid—Sam and Jennifer wait as Samantha paces the room. Her brain has closed down; she is running on pure adrenalin. The jihadists did not appreciate dealing with a woman. Samantha acted tough but was dying inside. It’s clear this might go badly. Sam tries not to think about the consequences if it does.

These people are ruthless in their dealings with non-Muslims. The terrorism experts who work for Veritas did an extensive background check on Khan. The information she got was chilling. His organization has killed thousands of innocent men, women, and children in the name of Jihad. His goal is to wipe out us infidels from the planet and inflict Sharia Law on the world. What a screwed-up piece of shit it is; it is anti-female—anti-drinking, anti-big Mac’s, anti-having fun, anti-everything except being pro-male. The fact is—Khan has killed far more Muslims than we have. A fact that seems to have eluded the press.

Khan returns days later.

I have your money, thank you, with a sardonic tinge to his voice.

Prepare him. A shiver goes down Richard’s back; he has a good idea what it means.

You got your money, what else do you want?

To let intruders, infidels, know we will not stop our attacks until we sweep you from our lands.

Please—do not hurt my boys.

Your boys—they are my boys now. They will meet the same fate as you.

Richard’s head drops, he knows he is going to die—the unspeakable terror ripping through him is what his children will experience before they do—it is more than his brain can process. In a fit of rage, he takes a run at the prick guarding the door. Richard is knocked to his knees kicked and beaten. He goes into a full body tremor, wrapping his arms around himself. He gasps for air. No one could or should have to experience what he is going through. It happens all the time.

This is all my fault, if only—Richard says under his breath.

A large bearded man arrives with his scimitar. Richard rolls off his knees to the ground and lets out a primal scream only a parent about to lose his children—can; blood running from his mouth and nose staining the Persian sand in crimson red. He cries a deep sobbing cry. The trauma he is going through crushes his body, he prays. The cameras are turned on to record the execution. The video will be available throughout the world. Civilized countries will not air it. Most Muslim counties do.

Hotel - 5:01 AM Tuesday

Samantha Rogers is expecting a call from the Turkish police. She has paid the 30 million-dollar ransom.

Her mind is melting. I paced the room for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally—the phone rings—and rings—and rings.

I watched the object of my dread; my skin went cold, a shiver of fear shot up my spine into my cerebrum. It was a call my female intuition told me would not be good. I stood at the window in the warmth of the rising sun shining on my face contemplating the last few moments of ignorance. It is 5:04 am. Good news does not come this early in the morning.

Sam collapses into an oversized leather chair by the phone. Her hand wants to pick it up; her heart does not. She reaches for it—the ringing—like fingernails dragged across a chalkboard.

My pulse was racing, sweat running down my backbone. It was just as well Jennifer was asleep in the other room. At least I think she was. Better, she hears bad news from me, and not from a one-sided conversation.

Sam raises the phone. Yes—hello?

There is a terrifying pause— Superintendent Abd-Al-Hamid here—Dr. We would like you to come down to the station Mrs. Rogers; we have news of your family, Sam pulls herself to the edge of the chair,

Please—inspector—tell me, coming down there will not make it any easier—will it.

"I guess not—we are so sorry to inform you your husband, Richard Rogers, Jacob, and Addacus are feared dead by the hand of the Islamic terrorist Khan. He took the ransom money and fled the country.

It will be our sworn duty to catch the murderers of your family and make them pay the ultimate penalty according to our laws. Your husband’s body is on route to Turkey. We will take it upon ourselves to transport him to you when it arrives. We do not have the bodies of your boys. We are still looking. If there is anything we can do to help, please let us know—Mrs. Rogers—Mrs. Rogers—"

Sam gently puts the phone down on its cradle. She has heard nothing after—your family is dead.

Samantha looks around the room, clears her throat, remembers to breathe. Visions of Richard flash through the cloud that is her brain. She puts her face in her hands and weeps. Her body trembles. Sam is aware of the shocking method these guys used to kill people. There is nothing we can do when losing loved ones like this. There is no justice.

Suddenly, a freighting voice in her head,

How am I going to tell Jennifer—dear god? Her Dad was her life. What I want to do is to hit the floor, curl up, and cry for a week—Richard wouldn’t have it.

Suddenly a horrific flash of excruciating pain rips through Samantha trembling body.

Dear God, the boys—my beloved Babies.

She slumps to the floor, hitting her face on a table, her body lurching with spastic seizures—one after the other. Sweat is running off her that mixes with blood running from her nose making an appalling scene of unbelievable grief.

I tried not to think about how my children died. It will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Jennifer enters the suite; her Mother is writhing on the wet, bloodied floor. She races back to her room slams the door. She screams a banshee-like shriek; it echoes throughout the hotel. It rips a jagged hole in one’s heart—

Samantha has lost a husband and two children. She is on the floor and wants to give up on life. She thinks for a brief second to do just that, it would take the pain away quickly. She will not do it. She has a Daughter. It is imperative she holds what family she has left—together.

Videos posted on Khan’s website showed a masked man beheading Richard, with Khan and his lieutenants watching. They retrieve his body but not the boys, who are presumed dead. The police discovered later Khan never intended to return the hostages alive. The terrorists assumed they were Americans, the Great Satin. They were, in fact, Canadians, it mattered little in the scheme of things.

CNN — WALTER CRONAUER—REPORTING

IT IS WITH REGRET AND SADNESS WE REPORT JIHADI TERRORISTS KILLED THE KIDNAPPED CEO OF VERITAS CORPORATION RICHARD ROGERS AND HIS TWIN BOYS. TURKEY HAS VOWED TO HUNT DOWN THE PERPETRATORS AND BRING THEM TO JUSTICE. THERE IS VIDEO OF MR. ROGERS DECAPITATION—WE WILL NOT AIR IT. VERITAS PAID THE RANSOM—BUT THE CAPTIVES WERE KILLED ANYWAY. IT IS THE WORK OF SHARIF KHAN, THE BRUTAL LEADER OF THE ISLAMIC FRONT, LINKED TO MANY OTHER HORRIFIC ACTS OF TERROR.

WE HAVE A TERRIFIC PANEL OF EXPERTS HERE TO DISCUSS THE SITUATION TO DEATH.

Chapter 4

Home

Three Black SUV’s wind their way up the long poplar-lined driveway of Veritas Corporation. They have closed the offices, plant, and labs. The staff who could have stayed home—don’t; they are waiting to be with the Rogers family during their time of such utter despair. They line the entrance way and up the mezzanine. It is a somber, tearful moment. There is not a dry eye. Scampering down the stairs are Daisy and Lilly, the family’s rescue dogs, oblivious to the trauma humans inflict upon themselves. Their tails wagging furiously as they meet their family’s homecoming. They sniff everyone and bound past the arriving throng to the front doors. They are looking for someone. The dogs seem bewildered—where are they? Where are our playmates? They race back to their people. Lilly, who is 106 lbs. stands on her hind legs puts her paws on Jen’s shoulders and gives her kisses. It is some comfort in an otherwise horrific situation. Jen rubs her sides and back like she has done 100 times before. Lilly drops and picks up the stuffed toy the boys gave her for Xmas years ago and moves to the front doors.

Jen glances at the animals, then to her Mother, she is looking longingly down the road. Jen turns, stares away from her dogs, puts a hand over her mouth. Her mind goes blank.

Dear God.

She collapses to the marble floor. Samantha picks her up in her arms and holds her Daughter tight. The distraught staff is beyond words. Their breaking hearts filled with unyielding grief etched on their faces. It’s a scenario that plays out daily all over the world. It shouldn’t. 

Finally, Daisy sidles up to front doors with Lilly, their tails still wagging but not with the same energy—their happy tails—stop. Lilly drops the stuffed toy. Their vigil begins.

For weeks, Lilly and Daisy come down to the foyer—waiting. As the hour’s pass, they lie down, their heads between their paws.

Daisy being the senior member of the group at eleven, rolls over on her side, still facing down the winding path. Her once black face showing her age as white fur is taking over her nose and jowls. One wonders what’s going through their minds. Oh—to be a dog.

Everyone wondered when the dogs would end their vigil; no one brings it up. Lilly never forgets to bring her stuffed toy with her just in case. If a vehicle arrives, their ears perk up, and tails wag in anticipation of—maybe. Jen would squat down on the floor with Lilly and Daisy and chat. Eventually, the three of them would go upstairs side-by-side. Lilly, who is six, would normally bound up the stairs—she doesn’t. Daisy walks deliberately, one step at a time. The dog’s heads droop, as they amble down the darkened hallway to Jennifer’s bedroom and collapse on their fluffy dog beds staring at Jennifer for answers.

Jen’s jolted wake is a sweat after suffering a bad dream—a recurring dream of how her brothers may have died. It is debilitating. Jennifer rises and throws a sweater over her shoulders and wanders down the hall to Addacus and Jacob’s room and stands in the doorway. She has not been able to go near their room since her return. Jen moves slowly toward their beds, stubbles on one of the dog’s toys, and lands half on Jacob’s bed grabbing his pillow and crashing to the floor. She begins to weep, a deep cry. Samantha has heard the commotion and rushed in to comfort her Daughter.

Mommy—when I close my eyes all I see is my brothers, I can’t stop it. They walk away from me—turn and wave me on to follow.

I have the same problem sleeping, Sam says

I’m not sure—never lost anyone like this, so I don’t know how long this pain lasts.

Forever. And Daddy was much more to me than a father; he was my teacher, my friend.

I know. We have both lost too much; it’s not supposed to be like this.

Can I sleep with you?

Why would you even ask? Samantha takes Jennifer by the hand to her room.

Richard’s body arrives from turkey. A few close friends join the Rogers family in the Chapel. He is buried in the family cemetery just to the north of Veritas by their apple orchard. Jennifer and her Mother visit his grave every day. Lilly and Daisy usually accompany them for the walk, probably more for the treats Jen brings.

Jennifer quits university. Any further schooling would be moot. She’s in her fourth year of quantum mechanics, nuclear and particle physics, and a minor in electromagnetic theory. Jen skipped a few grades!

It appears they are getting back to normal, whatever the hell that is. 

Samantha Jen’s handling all this better than I was. Or so I thought.

They were home for a while when Sam and Jen sit down to do the unthinkable. Talk about what happened. The bond between Mother and Daughter has fused. It must—for what’s coming.

They hold each other’s hands; put our foreheads together.

We will make a pact, a blood oath, to avenge the brutal deaths of your Father, my husband, my sons, and your Brothers.

Their future is written. Several months go by.

Samantha and Jennifer were aware Richard was experimenting with the storing of one’s consciousness into digital form, allowing the human brain to live in a computer environment with an individual’s unique synapse functions, thoughts, ideas, and memories. Richard had been investigating the concept for years. The idea became an obsession. He installed large numbers of quantum computers and a second nuclear reactor to supply the enormous power required.

It’s a quiet, warm summer Sunday morning. Jen’s in her room composing tunes on her electric piano and launchpad.

The central bank of computers is going through a reboot of the entire system to install new software upgrades Richard had put in place before they left for Turkey. All is going swimmingly until alarms start going off all over the place. Sam comes downstairs to the main lab in her pj’s. Jen stays in her room; she has heard them before. Usually, someone has tripped over a wire or something.

What’s all the commotion about? It’s a simple scheduled reboot—Isn’t it? Sam enquires.

Yes, Dr.

The lead scientist, Dr. Jack Mandrake, comes to her from behind a bank of servers flashing in all the colors of the rainbow. Very pretty—if it did not mean everything could go boom.

Dr. Rogers—there is something in the system the computers can’t digest. We are running a diagnostic now; it won’t take long. It’s odd though; it set off every alarm in the system—that’s not normal. All the quantum computers downstairs have kicked in; that’s way more computing power than we need, that’s not normal either. The server room is lit up like a Christmas tree. Something is accessing incredible amounts of energy, more than I thought we had.

Jack—is it a problem? before he can respond, Sam sits down at a mentoring station and starts typing.

Jack—the microprocessors are using almost one million gigahertz per second. That’s impossible.

I would have thought so, but it’s doing it. The power levels are all in the red.

Samantha calls Jennifer to come downstairs. She arrives in tight shorts, sheer blouse, no bra, and bare feet. It’s a distraction for the staff, okay, the male staff. Her Mother has chastised her in the past; it has gone unheeded.

Techies are rushing around like a flock of startled geese while Jen and Sam stand in the middle of the room, arms crossed, like pissed-off teachers watching a bunch of addled brained student screw-ups.

Jen has a thought, she grabs a tablet and brings up the power consumption in reactor 2. Jen and her Father had worked on it before going to Turkey.

I have found the problem; reactor 2 is pumping out enormous amounts of power. My God, it’s at 103%.

Why should that be a problem, it has a fail-safe—right? Sam looking for an affirmative.

It IS a problem; it has NO fail-safe—it will blow at 105. I know because Daddy and I have not installed the initiators yet! Sam and Jen stare at each other for a fearful moment.

Before we went to Turkey, Dad and I worked on the new reactor. Daddy entered an encrypted key code into the computer buffers to turn the reactor on and off. He did not want someone to play with it while we were gone. He is the only one who knows the code. So——if he is the only one who knows—what the hell is it doing at 103 frick’en percent?

They evac alarm is still blaring. Sam waves her arms, I want everyone out of the lab—NOW—let’s go—chop, chop, the staff quickly head to the cafeteria. Security guards accompany the fleeing flock.

AND CLOSE THE BLAST DOORS, Sam yells.

Really? Jen smiles at her Mother; she smiles back.

It will make the staff feel better.

I’m sure some of them know we are sitting on top a nuclear explosion, I do’know, maybe, in the 25-kiloton range. Blast doors——? they chuckle.

Focus my child—focus.

Suddenly, the flicking lights, diodes, and all monitors go out. The main lab goes deathly still. Jen moves to her Mother’s side, puts her arm around her waist.

What in Lord Jesus Christ— Jen can be so eloquent.

An 8K monitor flickers and bursts to life. A fuzzy, pixilated black and white picture of the grassy knoll where Samantha and Richard played with each other 25 years ago, appears on the screen. Sam puts a hand to mouth—and gasps.

What the hell is that? Jen asks.

Dear God! Your Father and I spent many an afternoon there. But what is it doing on my screen?

Typing appears on the monitor one excruciating letter at a time,

Samantha—are you there? Sam staggers to the rear of the lab hitting several chairs and slamming herself against the far wall taking out a table of flat screens. She gives out a short-lived yelp. She grabs a chair to steady herself as she attempts to stand.

Jen—type yes.

What the hell is going on here?

Jennifer—JUST DO IT!

Jen has trouble understanding what her Mother’s past has to do with anything. She gingerly types in ‘YES.’

Hi. It’s Richard.

The reply sends Jennifer reeling back to her perplexed Mother.

Holy shit, tell me it’s not—

The two of them tiptoe to the central control keyboard—still holding each other.

I’m going to give you a few commands to entire before I am fully integrated, and then we can chat.

Sam does as order; her brain has frozen. Richard seems to have succeeded in doing what he said he was going to do. Jen, sniffling, comes up behind her Mother, puts her chin on her shoulder.

Hi Jen, sorry I left you.

Hi, Daddy, She gives him a little wave.

They spend the next few hours conversing back and forth until Richard’s face appears in all its glory. Lilly and Daisy walk up to the screen wagging their tails.

Hi baby dogs—how are you—miss me?

Daisy and Lilly reply.

Wooooofff—woooooff, It’s a happy woof.

Sam’s brain is coming out of its deep freeze.

How—?

"As you know I was trying to duplicate my brain in a digital format. The brain is just a small but powerful computer with flashing neurons and electromagnetic impulses all wired together. I used a new chip I developed with brain-inspired architecture powered by 1 million neurons and 256 million synapses. It is the largest computer chip ever built at 5.4 billion transistors. It has an on-chip network capacity of 4,096 synaptic neuron cores, yet only consumes 70mW of power during real-time operation—orders of magnitude less energy than