David Grunwell - author

A realview call came and Lauren answered it seeing it was from Rolland’s brother Matthew.

“Hi, Lauren,” said Matt. He was attempting to hide his discomfort. This was not a social call.

“Hello, Matthew. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but I went to Crawford’s for that meeting and when I got there, no one knew about it. It wasn’t a scheduling error, and they had no record of me being contacted or any subject that was up for such an urgent discussion.”

Lauren’s face grew stern and her eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Agreed. I tried to call the mine, but the system said that it was not allowing outside contact at this time. This could be nothing, but . . .”

“I will start some digging. I don’t like this. See what you can find out on your end. I will get Terry and Jessica to help. They may be able to find out more.”

Matthew nodded. “I would rather be safe than sorry.”

“Me too.”

After riding up a few floors, I got off the elevator and started wandering until I found a bathroom down a small, out-of-the-way corridor. I went in and chose the farthest stall from the door. Sitting down on the seat I fought the urge to weep. Why do so many of my misadventures start out with me in a bathroom?

I let out a ragged sigh and in despair said, “I miss you, Lauren.” She was so far away.

Wait. I was carrying a contact lens unit to allow me to view the 360-microrec that was sitting on the boardroom table. Lauren had sternly chastised me stating that carrying a lens gave me options. She is smart. I am glad I listened.

As miserable as it was to be in the same room with them, it would be far worse to just listen in and watch. With me gone, the cabal would be free to bully and scheme. Perfect for gaining insights into the players and their plans.

After a few frustrating moments, I found the pinky-sized case and placed it to my left eye. I felt the coolness of the liquid indicating that I had successfully applied the contact. I blinked a few times and my vision cleared and began pulling up data giving the impression that it was on a face screen monitor. Linking to the microrec’s feed, I watched as a woman I did not recognize walk up and shoot Jolla twice in the chest!

What was going on? This is horrible! I began to pray for us all.

A handsome, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties stood at the front of the boardroom. I could not recall ever seeing him before. “I again ask you to stay calm and don’t anyone of you move. We are quite serious. If you do what you are told, some of you may make it out of here alive.”

It was surreal. Around the room, there was a wide-ranging assortment of people, all dressed as if they were out for a day of shopping. Each carried an odd collection of weapons as if they had raided a military weapons depot to fend off a zombie apocalypse.

There was a thirty-year-old woman, who would pass for most moms at a kid’s game, who was sporting a bandolier of grenades and twin pistols in quick draw holsters. There were bent over old people with weapons and teen girls carrying heavy machine guns. This was madness.

Gulan’s voice trembled and his face was flushed in anger as he stood to confront the intruders. “I demand to know who you are and why you are here. This is an executive board meeting, and you are to leave here immediately. Security! Why are they not answering?”

The leader said, “Number Twenty-two, please show this gentleman how serious we are.”

A sleepy young man, with long orange, red, and black colored hair, was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He rocked himself forward to stand. Unhooking his long rifle strap from his shoulder, he carefully laid it to rest against the wall. He turned and looked at Gulan through his dangling locks. He has watched too much anime. With a surprising burst of speed, he launched himself into the air to land a devastating punch on the forehead of Gulan that made his neck audibly snap. Gulan dropped to the floor and did not move. The young attacker stood and flipped his head to bring his hair back into place. Sauntering back, he leaned against the wall as if ready to nap.

Too much anime? He is anime, and he certainly wasn’t human. Even bio-enhanced humans were not this quick and powerful. He was a symbioid or some other manufactured thing.

I studied the twenty people who were staged to stand around the seated board members. Were they all assassin machines like the sleepy anime teen who killed Gulan?

The handsome, dark-haired man said, “It is clear, that you still do not get the importance of following exactly what I am asking, so maybe a second demonstration is in order? I think this could be fun. Fifteen and Eight, please take care of the Chairwoman Shahel Mailne and President Nera Bendros.”

Yorgil Quant stood up from the boardroom table. Slim of frame, bent shoulders with a pronounced belly, he was hardly the hero. Young and lean, Susan Franeet stood and walked over to join him to stand by the Chairwoman and the President. Susan reached into her purse and Yorgil reached for his waistband. What are they doing?

The two board members pulled pistols. With fluid grace, they fired two shots into the head and chest of Shahel and Nedra, killing them instantly.

My jaw fell. They were biosynths. Symbioids wouldn’t have passed the security test to enter the mine. I didn’t know Susan or Yorgil very well, yet I had no idea it wasn’t them.

“Oh, and add her, too.” The leader pointed to Illiah Torne. “Number Six, it is your choice of the method.” The leader grinned. “There’s no reason not to start this off right, don’t you think?”

Illiah began to stand. Her guard was a petite young woman with long flowing blonde hair. Her stylish party dress was accessorized with a chunky Viper-440 assault rifle that was slung across her back. Placing her delicate hands on Illiah’s shoulder, she pushed the much larger woman back to sit. With gentle eyes, she smiled as she placed her hands on Illiah’s cheeks. With a sharp movement, she snapped her neck. The symbioid’s face was full of fascination as she leaned Illiah back in her chair. Using her fingers, she calmed the dead woman’s ruffled hair. Stepping back with her arms akimbo, the young woman surveyed her work, letting a satisfied smile sprout.

I had watched far too long. With a quick prayer for God’s protection, I moved out of the stall and stood by the door listening. There was no sound. I held my breath and snuck out the door headed toward where I had noted a security console and escape elevator on the way to the bathroom. The invaders would have had to breach the mine's security to get down this far. If anyone could survive this, Ellanna would. She would be my best chance if there was any hope left.

“Where’s Newcastle?” asked the leader.

Raynart Grayten snarled and said, “It’s Rolland, not Mathew who is here, and he left to go weep in the bathroom. Stop playing around. Marton, this isn’t an audition for the part of a realview villain, so finish this so we can get started. Send your things off and Kill Newcastle.”

The dark-haired leader Marton stared at Raynart. His voice dropped, and he said, “I have two top orders: get the adalinite and if possible, capture Rolland alive and unharmed. Everything else that happens is at my discretion. You were not to say my name, yet you have. As this is a test of the biosynths, you would do well to appreciate what they and I can do.” He looked at the copies of Yorgil Quant and Susan Franeet. “Did you get us access to the adalinite storage?”

Susan nodded and said, “Yes. We have full access. The mine is under our complete control.”

“Excellent.” Marton pointed to Morton Denalt and said, “We don’t need him anymore. Fourteen.”

A middle-aged woman with slumped shoulders and mousy brown hair placed her assault rifle on the table and approached him. She looked like some teenager’s mom who would offer you milk and brownies when you came to visit. Nothing about her hinted at her being soulless a killing machine.

Morton’s face contorted. He pointed at the remaining people at table. “Not me! Them! We had a deal, Marton.”

Exasperated, the leader leaned back in his chair. “Had. Past tense.” He waved his hand at Raynart and said, “Oh, kill Raynart, too. You both are such intolerable pains. You two are always scheming, even against each other, and always demanding — it never stops.”

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