General Nash walked over to a bookcase. He opened a false wall of books, revealing a bar stocked with glasses, an ice bucket, and bottles of liquor. “It’s six thirty. I usually have a glass of scotch around this time. We’ve got bourbon, whiskey, vodka, and wine. Or I can order you something more elaborate.”
“I’ll have malt whiskey with a little bit of water.”
“Excellent. Good choice.” Nash began pulling corks out of bottles. “I’m part of a group called the Brethren. We’ve been around for quite a long time, but for hundreds of years we were just reacting to events, trying to reduce the chaos. The Panopticon was a revelation to our members. It changed our way of thinking.
“Even the most casual student of history realizes that human beings are greedy, impulsive, and cruel. But Bentham’s prison showed us that social control was possible with the right sort of technology. There was no need to have a policeman standing on every corner. All you need is a Virtual Panopticon that monitors your population. You aren’t required to literally watch them all the time, but the masses have to accept that possibility and the inevitability of punishment. You need the structure, the system, the implicit threat that becomes a fact of life. When people discard their notions of privacy, they permit a peaceful society.”
The general carried two glasses over to a couch and some chairs clustered around a low wood table. He placed Michael’s drink on the table and the men sat opposite each other.
“So here’s to the Panopticon.” Nash raised his glass to the model on the pedestal. “It was a failed invention, but a great insight.”
Michael sipped some of the whiskey. It didn’t taste like it was drugged, but he couldn’t be sure. “You lecture about philosophy if you want,” he said, “but I don’t really care. All I know is that I’m a prisoner.”
“Actually, you know a good deal more than that. Your family lived under an assumed name for several years until a group of armed men attacked your home in South Dakota. We did that, Michael. Those men were our employees and they were following our old strategy.”
“You killed my father.”
“Did we?” Kennard Nash raised his eyebrows. “Our staff searched what was left of the house, but we never found his body.”
The casual tone of Nash’s voice was infuriating. You bastard, Michael thought. How can you sit there and smile? A wave of anger surged through his body and he thought about flinging himself across the table and grabbing Nash by the throat. Finally there would be payback for the destruction of his family.
General Nash didn’t seem to realize that he was on the verge of being attacked. When his cell phone rang, he put down his drink and pulled the phone out of his suit-coat pocket. “I asked not to be disturbed,” he told the caller. “Yes. Is that so? How very interesting. Well, why don’t I just ask him?”
Nash lowered the phone and frowned at Michael. He resembled a bank official who had just found a small problem in a loan application. “Lawrence Takawa is on the phone. He says that you’re either going to attack me or try to escape.”
Michael stopped breathing for a few seconds while his hands gripped the edge of his chair. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Please, Michael, don’t waste your time being deceitful. Right now you’re being monitored by an infrared scanner. Lawrence says that you show an increased heart rate, elevated skin galvanic response, and heat signals around the eyes. All this data is a clear indication of a fight-or-flight reaction. Which leads me back to my original question: Are you going to attack me or run away?”
“Just tell me why you wanted to kill my father.”
Nash studied Michael’s face, and then decided to continue the conversation. “Don’t worry,” he said to Takawa. “I think we’re making progress here.” The general switched off the cell phone and dropped it back into his pocket.
“Was my father a criminal?” Michael asked. “Did he steal something?”
“Remember the Panopticon? The model works perfectly if all humanity lives inside the building. It doesn’t work if one individual can open a door and stand outside the system.”
“And my father could do that?”
“Yes. He’s what we call a ‘Traveler.’ Your father was able to project his neural energy out of his body and travel to other realities. Our world is the Fourth Realm. There are fixed barriers one must pass through to enter the other realms. We don’t know if your father explored all of them.” Nash stared directly at Michael. “The ability to leave this world appears to have a genetic origin. Perhaps you could do it, Michael. You and Gabriel might have the power.”
“And you’re the Tabula?”
“That name is used by our enemies. As I told you, we call ourselves the Brethren. The Evergreen Foundation is our public institution.”
Michael stared down at his drink while he tried to figure out a strategy. He was still alive because they wanted something. Perhaps you could do it, Michael. Yes. That was it. His father had disappeared and they needed a Traveler.
“All I know about your foundation is the commercials I’ve seen on public television.”
Nash stood up and walked over to the window. “The Brethren are true idealists. We want what is best for everyone: peace and prosperity for all. The only way to achieve this goal is to establish social and political stability.”
“So you put everyone in a giant prison?”
“Don’t you understand, Michael? These days people are frightened of the world around them, and that fear is easily encouraged and maintained. People want to be in our Virtual Panopticon. We’ll watch over them like good shepherds. They’ll be monitored, controlled, protected from the unknown.
“Besides, they rarely recognize the prison. There’s always some distraction. A war in the Middle East. A scandal involving celebrities. The World Cup or the Super Bowl. Drugs, both illegal and prescribed. Advertisements. A novelty song. A change of fashion. Fear may induce people to enter our Panopticon, but we keep them amused while they’re inside.”
“Meanwhile you’re killing Travelers.”
“As I said, that’s an outdated strategy. In the past, we responded like a healthy body rejecting different viruses. All the basic laws have been written down, in a multitude of languages. The rules are clear. Mankind just has to learn how to obey. But whenever a society was close to some degree of stability, a Traveler came along with new ideas and a desire to change everything. While the wealthy and the wise were trying to build a vast cathedral, the Travelers kept undermining the foundation-causing trouble.”
“So what’s changed?” Michael asked. “Why haven’t you killed me?”
“Our scientists started working on something called a quantum computer and received unexpected results. I’m not going to give you the details this evening, Michael. All you need to know is that a Traveler can help us achieve an incredible breakthrough in technology. If the Crossover Project works, history will be changed forever.”
“And you want me to become a Traveler?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Michael got up from the couch and approached General Nash. By now he had recovered from his reaction to the infrared scanner. Perhaps these people could read his heart rate and skin temperature, but that wasn’t going to change anything.
“A few minutes ago you said that your organization attacked my family’s house.”
“I had nothing to do with that, Michael. It was a regrettable incident.”