User:Anthony Ennis

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Anthony W. Ennis

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”—1 Corinthians 13:12

6,667 words

A COOLER WAVE by

Anthony W. Ennis

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”—1 Corinthians 13:12

Stan Janson, a former mechanic turned pilot, maneuvered his KT-1307 Sikorsky helicopter closer to the Amerigas Consolidated drilling rig with an air master’s degree of precision. His handling of the craft was set to a soundtrack born out of the combination of swishing rotor blades cutting through the air and the Beatles’ Strawberry Fields’ booming from his mp4-player. Stan worked the digital nerves of his right hand positioning his thumb over the control stick and moved it forward to balance the pitch of the craft and then placed the cyclic control in neutral to allow it to hover. The red head from Sandusky Ohio landed the copter with all the grace of an iron butterfly within the circular yellow guidelines. “Well I guess, I am about to find out who aboard this floating deathtrap is worth $35 million to Am Con.” Stan said to himself, thinking of the care that was taken to conceal the identity of the person he was there to retrieve.

The door of a shack that sat across from the helipad upon the roof of which was anchored the derrick opened and out stepped the ‘payload’. Orange coveralls failed to reduce the curves and raw femininity of the person approaching the Sikorsky. She wore a ball cap bearing the Amerigas Consolidated ‘A’ intersecting ‘C’ logo but despite this Janson observed that she was a blond. “Wow!” was the word that formed in his mind, as the ‘Carmen Electra’ look alike entered the craft. “Welcome aboard my little flyer, I call her the Yume.” The woman half smiled at Stan’s show of old style social grace and remaining silent handed him a data disc. “Load this into your nav-comp right away, the password is epiphany.” she said spitting out her words like darts. Reaching for the disc Stan felt a sudden sensation, a tingle that ran the full length of his spine and then his mind went off line plunging him into darkness.

A tiny speck of light began to take form in what appeared to be an endless vista of pitch black flickering and growing. “Can it be some kind of virus?” Stan heard a female voice ask. It was then that a deluge of light broke through the veil of onyx, as if in reply to the woman’s inquiry. Light exploded in arcs of various colors; ruby reds, amethyst lavenders and aquamarine blues; a virtual kaleidoscope. A feeling of weightlessness took hold of Stan then his eyes opened. The airman amazed, felt at first that he was dreaming for he looked down on what appeared to be his own motionless body. Six people, four males and two females formed a ring of mercy around a seventh individual encased in a glass tube moving to and fro with great speed and care. “Am I dead?” he asked out loud to no one in particular. The lack of response from any of the others present exposed the fact that within the space that he was floating the resonance of his vocal cords was confined to the domain of his thoughts. His would be saviors were deaf to his words, yet he could hear every word they uttered along with the ambient sounds of their environment in high definition stereo. Visions of Rah-77 Comanche helicopters approaching from some lost horizon did little to comfort him, ‘S.J’ was afraid. “Damn it, the ‘E.S.I’ sysop indicates that a power surge is imminent!” a male voice rang out. “Kirby explicitly stated that unless prompted by the smart terminal we are not to interrupt the interface,” another stated. The group continued to debate what actions to take while the room appeared to spin; its computer bank covered walls then fell away and faded into thin air. Stan felt himself rising as if being lifted by some giant invisible hand. The ceiling above him vanished and now he could see a vast expanse of azure. His ascent suddenly halted and suspended in a cloudless sky Janson asked himself once again… “Am I dead?”

A peregrine was flying toward Stan while he mentally grasped at fragments of moments that preceded his journey from darkness to light. The bird approached with its’ claws opened for attack. Stan Janson took notice of the falcon in that same instance he also felt the sudden tug of gravity and began falling toward the black and white mosaic paved surface that lied below .The airman landed amazingly cat-like on his feet. Stan looked up aware that the peregrine was still targeting him in time to see it burst into flames. The bird was vaporized after being struck by a blade like weapon thrown by the rider of a 4-wheel Tomahawk motorcycle that was quickly approaching. “The ‘payload’ was the phantom rider, now dressed in a scarlet complimentary to Janson’s navy blue flight suite complete with a militaristic utility belt. “No Stan, you’re not dead,” a familiar female voice said. Turning off the V13 Viper engine the mysterious blond dismounted her metal steed and walked toward the pilot. Moving with all the grace of a panther she circled Stan, then embraced him. She began to speak however a wall of static muted her words. Stan looked into her green eyes and read a silent statement of urgency. “I can’t make out what you’re saying” he shouted his voice also at odds with the electric like crackling dissonance. The woman then mouthed these unmistakable words… “Help me.”

Wires of various sizes and colors shot up from the ground lancing at Stan and the woman whose name he did not know although she was in his arms. “How can I help you?” he asked. Three of the organic yet somewhat mechanical worm like tendrils began wrapping around the legs of the hapless couple moving slowly upwards. The noise that had hindered their earlier attempt to dialogue came to an abrupt end and this time the lady’s words could be heard with absolute clarity. “We’ve got to leave here now, the Trojan has returned.” Saying this she released him from her embrace, reached for and opened a sheath attached to her utility belt removing a cylindrical sword like device. “This applet will act as a temporary fix, but the real kluge lies with you,” she said stabbing at one of the snake like lines. The first of the tree wire creatures wounded shrieked back in pain then crumbled into dust and the other two subject to the same action soon followed.

Escaping the wire worms the two climbed onto the slick aluminum body of the Tomahawk, the femme fetale activating its engine. Stan fought to align his understanding of reality with his present circumstances. A paradigm shift took shape in his mind, one that allowed for much if not all of the fantastic occurrences. As the motorcycle shot across the chessboard like freeway, he turned to the woman for answers to questions that his self-analysis could not provide. “Who are you and what the hell is going on here?” he asked. “My name is Del D’Atra Thoreau, I am a program specialist. I was sent here to retrieve you Stan.” she replied. “Ok, we’ve got a name that’s a start; however the rest just raises more questions.” Stan shot back impatience coloring his voice. D’Atra flipped a series of switches on her cycles’ instrument cluster a vortex of energy then formed above them a femto-second before Del D’Atra could provide the explanation he was seeking. Taking note of Janson’s nervous reaction to the swirling turquoise mass D’Atra in an almost maternal manner said. —“Don’t panic it’s only a hyperlink, it will take us close to the External Open Frontier.” Flashes of lightning charged the air as Stan and Del were pulled skyward into the link leaving the motorcycle behind. They were teleported to a place that appeared to be fixed on the cusp of a gargantuan metallic sphere. Emerald light from a binary star of the same hue supplied illumination.

Del walked ahead, it was the blond leading the red across the globular structure. They stopped at a section that appeared to be a doorway marked by a golden pentagram under which appeared the number 1818. Stan’s thoughts drifted back through time to his childhood. Memories of dynamic comic book covers illustrated by the likes of George Pérez, Alex Ross and Denys Cowan were revisited. “Stan only you can open this Janus Point.” Del D’Atra said as if issuing a command. Stan stepped away from the access point and then delivered his response… “No way, I am not moving one more inch without an explanation.” The blond was taken aback by this reaction and clearly agitated. “Stan we don’t have time right now, but I promise to fill in the details later.” The atmosphere hummed with the sound of the song ‘My Immortal’ by Evanescence that soon gave way to a crescendo of lightning flashes. “Open the gate Stan or we’ll both be deleted,” she asserted, her words peppered with a sharp no nonsense tone.

Reluctantly the airman complied, instinctively placing both palms onto the ancient symbol of deep wisdom, a raised point on the otherwise smooth surface of the Janus. Directed by his thoughts the door shimmered, and then opened allowing entry. Walking through the archway they stepped onto a glass bridge that extended into the distance beyond their field of vision. A wall of fire appeared behind them creating a barrier, removing retreat as an option. The landscape before them was reminiscent of Gusta Klimt, or more specifically it resembled the Austrian artist’s 1907 painting Adele Bloch Bauer 1.A wall of yellow dotted with a multitude of eyes. Towering above it all was a giant floating disembodied head surrounded by 5 versions of Stan Janson each dressed in a different shade of gray. Overwhelmed by this spectacle Stan grabbed D.D.T by her arms…“Explain this mess now!” he demanded.

“It’s not a matter of where you are. The real issue Stan is who and what you are.” D’Atra mused gazing up at the great monument to Janson’s ego. The flyboy was more uneasy now than at any other moment of this bizarre experience. The gray suited copies floating like celestial satellites orbiting a freakish sun were animated moving their arms occasionally as if conducting an invisible orchestra. They also appeared to be aware of the two intruders 14 feet below them. “I’m Stan Janson, a master mechanic and an airman of the highest degree,” he declared overcome by awe and wonder. “Is that all there is to your being? Are you only defined by what you do?” Although issued in her voice it was question they both asked. Del motioned with her right hand for Stan to keep following as she continued walking forward. The strange serenity of the golden plane was shattered by a sound of thunder. “The firewall has been breached, the Trojan is tunneling through the primary storage domain,” an unknown yet not unfamiliar male voice said over the slamming of Thor’s hammer. “It appears to be blocking the conversion; the oxygen unit has been compromised,” another man said. These voices came as imports from another platform of reality as Stan and Del D’Atra made their way across the translucent walk way.

The bridge shook and as it did Stan looked back and could see why; it was ripping apart. Cracks chaining together caused sections of the ground behind them to crumble and fall into the void below. “Hurry, our access time is running out, we have to get to the buffer field before…” D’Atra was interrupted as in a flash she was encased in a magnetic bubble. Stan stopped in his tracks and could only watch as the woman he’d come to know as Del D’Atra Thoreau was levitated upward locked in a cage of energy.

“D.D.T is offline; nanobots are flooding the Kasparov bio link, shut down the interface before it fries his brain!” a voice from the external reality emphatically stated. Stan left with no other choice turned and continued to run not knowing what lied at the other end of the impossibly long bridge. He felt a breeze as if something had gone passed him but without seeing who or what Janson pressed on. Three steps later he slammed into a wall of energy. It took a moment to register, however as he was carried into the air it became clear that he too was now a prisoner. “ The interface has been severed,” an unseen speaker declared.

The great head like some colossal mirror altered its features to reflect the mask of fear and angry Janson was now wearing. The energy bubbles with their precious cargo flew under guidance of a foot long manta ray shaped directory drone on the belly of which was emblazoned the wedjet, the eye of Horus. Their flight path took them dangerously close to the titan and its gray suited doppelgangers. Voices from the realm beyond streamed in once again, their tone sounding ever more urgent. “We have two hours to get this thing working Janson, you know what that means.” It was not the first time that Stan heard an outsider address a compatriot by name but it was made significant by the person replying. “You needn't remind me of what’s at stake here I value my life as much as you do yours.” The voice of the respondent was unmistakably that of the Sandusky kid that was once known as a one man wrecking shop. Brushing his left hand through his red mane ‘S.J’ again mentally reviewed the event s that gave birth to his present circumstances.

Jimi Hendrix’s version of ‘All Along the Watch Tower’ electrified the air rising in volume as if it were the terran sun bursting forth from the east. The spheres were deposited in an open area 40 feet away from what was left of the glass bridge.

No blade of grass grew on the silicone field; it was devoid of life. Two marble columns stood as a testament to the craftsmanship of its absent architect. “Can you hear me?”

D’Atra asked. Stan answered by nodding his head. “You’re not what you believe you are. You’re not human.” A pregnant pause is the technical term one would use to describe the moment between D’Atra’s revelation and Stan’s reaction to it. “Not human… No longer human you mean to say?” he asked. “No Stan you were never an organic, you’re one of us, you’re a synthetic.” The roar of an approaching aircraft interrupted the conversation. A Spectrum 1930 light flyer came into view. The craft landed its wings aligned with the twin columns. “The Trojan.” D’Atra announced. Three figures of approximately the same size exited the airplane and began walking toward Stan and D’Atra.

Bits and bytes of conversation continued to filter in from the other field of reality as Stan Janson and Del D’Atra prepared to meet their demise. “I’ve considered the risk and I don’t have the time to argue. Its crunch time reinitiate the ‘E.S.I’!” this command from beyond was followed by a click. In a burst of light a pyramid like structure appeared above the magnetic bubbles. The drone that had projected the two restraining globes morphed into a peregrine and took to the sky narrowly avoiding a laser blast as it retreated. The spheres vanished, cancelled by a high-density energy strike from the triangular object. “You’re a [[sentient, technical, automated navigator]]…S.T.A.N” Del explained.” “What no meaning behind Janson?” he sarcastically replied. “Lars Janson is the mission’s program designer and your creator.” The former grease monkey and the program specialist cautiously observed their triangular liberator as it transformed into the face of a man. “S.T.A.N.” The voice of the floating head appeared familiar and at the same time alien to Stan Janson. “Who are you?” the pilot asked. “I’m Lee Kirby, you may not remember me, but we’ve met before. Your R.O.M and R.A.M drives were infected as a result our attempt to access an ancient system we found on the surface of Mars,” Kirby explained. Without warning an intense burst of energy enveloped the Kirby avatar, it glowed as it were a star about to go nova then shattered like glass. The extra-dimensional allies of Lee Kirby were heard once more their tone now awash with great anxiety and disappear. “He’s dead,” a female voice announced in somber tone. His killer, the Trojan one being represented by three aspects each bearing the same featureless visage approached swiftly. “Remember Stan, I told you the real kluge lies with you.” Del D’Atra said reaching again for her sword like applet. The blonde then assumed a battle stance that would’ve made Bruce Lee proud. “Kluge? Help me out here; explain it to me in low level language.” Stan insisted. Another existence tugged at the airman and briefly he was living his memories of working on a mazarati engine. “I have a past, a life before this, a career before flying. How can what you’ve told me be true?” “You were designed to replace the ship’s operating system after the original program was compromised in the manner that Kirby described. We exist in a fractal world, real to you and me but in actuality only a series of mathematical equations. ” Del replied. The Trojan was now before them, the three seeming to sense DDT’s combat readiness assumed a similar mode.

The unholy trinity shifted its shape from organic to a metallic form. Now armored, the Trojan swooped down on its prey. Two units advanced on Del D’Atra while the third engaged Stan. The blond moving with the grace of ballerina and the lethal intent of a scorpion struck at her opponents. The applet DDT’s blade like weapon so effective earlier against the wireworms had little impact on her current challengers. Weaponless Stan relied on his limited fighting experience and memories of martial arts legends in motion to direct his defense. Swiftly feinting Janson avoided the Trojan’s first thrust however he was awkward and almost lost his footing. “Save yourself. Run, get to the External Open Frontier and reinitiate the interface!” D’Atra warned. Glancing over his left shoulder Stan could see his companion being struck time after time. Del D’Atra Thoreau’s and Stan Janson’s eyes were locked on each other as a flicker of light red, purple and green filled her sclera then slowly her eyelids closed. “The dynamic debugging tool is down again,” a voice piped in from the great-unseen island announced.

“Conversion achieved.” stated the Trojan in unison. Stan was overcome by a Noam Chomsky moment as he lamented the loss of his ally. Intellectually he could not justify the conflict, yet it was clear that his survival was at stake. The trio was more agile and versatile than Janson; however the pilot determined that regardless of the odds he would fight like a Viking. The lone Trojan horse that he was opposing fired a left hook that connected with his anterior deltoid. A sharp pain raced through S.J as the attacker intensified his offensive. The other two Trojan units advanced as Stan attempted to take evasive action. A fist as hard as concrete connected with his mandible; then for a moment the airman was back aboard his KT-1307 Sikorsky locked in a tailspin. “The password is epiphany,” the words of the payload flashed through his memory. Darkness embraced him and Stan could hear those voices from the other sector, their tone now changed showing clear signs of anxiety. “Reboot, reboot!” a female voice was saying as Stan slipped into a stream of black.

Stan’s mind was on fire when he awoke from a dream in which he was piloting a golden piece of history an F-35 Lightning 7 fighter. His mind set free from the stygian cloud Janson beheld that he was above a valley that was dotted with domes of various sizes. The sky was a cloudless red and in the distance the remains of a crashed star ship was strewn about showing evidence of its violent end. Stan and the still unconscious D’Atra were bound from head to foot by a web of energy that was tethered to a floating disc shaped platform upon which stood the Trojan. The tri-being had altered their appearance once more and now all three had taken on the appearance of Del D’Atra Thoreau as she first appeared on the deck of the Amerigas Consolidated oilrig. Moving in an erratic flight pattern the disc with its dangling prisoners and their captors sliced through the air. The Trojan Horses expressed no further interest in Stan as they directed their craft toward the shattered hulk.

“Primary guidance system is off-line, it wont be long before the planet’s gravity starts pulling us back” this statement issued by one of the voices from beyond the veil set off a series of responses. “Drake can we manually maneuver to escape velocity?” voice number two asked. “Not advisable. We’d be flying blind, that would be tricky for Kirby and almost certainly suicidal for us to do on our own,” An image filled Stan’s mind not a daydream or premonition but a vision in which he saw a starship fighting to tear free from the magnetic influence of a scarlet globe with two odd shaped moons. Rush’s ‘Tom Sawyer’ provided atmosphere as the airman struggled with his restraints. “What do you want with me?” he angrily demanded. The Trojan did not reply in fact they did not react at all. Long ago a wise man-Frederick Douglas said “No struggle, no progress.” However each tug at the energy bindings made them only tighter. Del D’Atra reacted quite differently than flyboy as she awoke from the involuntary downtime. Quickly assessing the restrictive nature of her circumstances she remained calm in contrast to Janson’s display of agitation. “It is imperative that you win the battle you’re fighting within your mind. You simply must come to terms with who you are Stan, if you don’t the Trojan will continue to absorb you.” DDT warned. Stan Janson replied with an outward display of silence and inward scream –“Who am I!” Photons fired back and forth within his central cortex a wave of awareness fell upon Janson and as it did a sudden sense of empowerment followed. Deep within him the problem was restated, charted, coded, tested and documented.

“Alpha, beta, gamma,delta,epsilon,zeta,eta,theta,iota,kappa,lambda,mu,nu,xi,omicron,pi, rho, sigma, tau, upsilon, phi, chi, psi” he recited aloud and as he began to form the next letter in the Greek alphabet the wave repeated in quick succession ever growing cooler. An algorithm streamed through the airman fragmenting his understanding of reality then… “Omega”. The debugging process completed, Stan felt restored and at that moment he realized and accepted his true nature. “No matter what happens Stan, don’t give the Trojan the password.” Del said. The disc descended a short distance from the entrance of the derelict. One of the Trojan units motioned toward the prisoners and instantly the two were set free from the energy chains. “Come with me.” The D’Atra duplicates commanded their voices in perfect sync. “And if we refuse?” Stan asked. “Comply or be deleted.” Was their reply delivered in cold emotionless cadence. Janson nodded then moved keeping pace with the Trojan.

Rusted with pieces of it’s exterior hull missing the craft was reminiscent of a vessel from a classic Chris Foss painting. Drawing nearer to what must have been the main fuselage Janson took notice of a logo written in data 70 font style near its conical nose-‘Yume’. The word is Japanese, it means dream, yet its definition was not its only significance to S.J. Entering the craft Stan looked around and immediately realized that he was in the command-piloting unit. The module an ark of cybernation once the cornerstone of a celestial flyer was now a mausoleum. Seated in a circular formation before separate monitors were six space suited individuals. A seventh person stood upright in a dust covered glass tube that was filled with wires that appeared to be extensions of the ship. Curious Stan approached the encasement, above which was a small label that read, Expert System Interface. Brushing a layer of dust from the glass he made out the face of the man within the shell…it was Lee Kirby. The Trojan units stood as silent sentinels beside Stan and Del D’Atra. The ships interior began to expand, the operating system covered walls curving as it did. A rush of air signaled the arrival of the peregrine that had once been the manta ray like drone. The bird summer saluted in mid-air and changed into an armored version of the Trojan. The metal clad creature stretched forth its right hand; in it was Del D’Atra Thoreau’s sword like weapon the ‘applet’. “You will supply me with the mnemonic tag to access the neural network immediately or you will both be deleted,” it demanded.

Mercury alone could have matched Del D’Atra ’s response time to the ultimatum that was issued by the Trojan. The blond leaped forward in a desperate attempt to reclaim her weapon from the creature. “ Run Stan!” she shouted. Del D’Atra Thoreau fought with her armored opponent while attempting to use her body as a barrier between Stan and other Trojan units. Janson rather than fleeing as he was instructed turned and fearlessly entered the frey. Stan launched an attack on the Del like units slamming his fist into the mid-section of the creature nearest to him. The Trojan was unaffected by this keypunch and mounted a counter strike, joined by the others. The hands of the T.H units were crowned with razor sharp tips that tore open Stan’s flight suite and left a crimson ribbon on his flesh wherever they made contact. DDT claimed a minor victory over the armored Trojan by wrenching the applet from its grasp. Out numbered and fighting in close quarters the airman and his Amazon like comrade appeared to be destined for defeat. “ I guess I should’ve ran when I had the chance. Well I sure hope you have a plan B. ” Stan stated as they backed away from the advancing Trojans. “This applet provides only a temporary fix the real kluge lies with you.” Del said as she handed Janson her applet.

Sparks flew as Stan’s blade met armored platting. He slashed at his enemies with the fury of Azrael and of battle born ability of Aries. Although wielding the applet with the confidence of a trained swordsman Janson found that he was limited in his ability to ward off the advance of the Trojan. Frustrated by what he believed to be a developing quagmire the flyboy exclaimed. “D’Atra I’ll need more than this blade to take down these things!” Del D’Atra Thoreau did not verbally reply to Janson’s remark but did respond by pressing a button on her utility belt. The applet spun in the palms of the pilot and began to heat up. The devise became so hot that Janson’s reflexes loosened his grip and it fell from his hand. In mid air the weapon extended its mass and became a staff. Stan grabbed the now five feet long weapon as it struck the ground before him. The javelin like devise was soon proven more effective in repelling his attackers. The tide of the battle shifted in favor of the Sandusky sky captain and his ally. However, they soon found that while they could slow their foes they were unable to stop the Trojan’s unrelenting attack. A cold equation played out in Janson’s mind as he calculated the fact that while he was unable to inflict actual damage to the Trojan, all four of its units possessed the means to destroy him and apparently Del as well.

Stan’s next move came as a wild card played at the most pivotal moment of a poker game. As the Trojan units advanced on their quarry they did so in formation in an attempt to box them in. Janson and Del retreated until their backs were against one of the craft’s many workstations. The Trojan formed a ring around them and in response the airman targeting the T-unit closest to him threw the applet like a spear. The impaled T.H fell backward and that moment Stan leaped forward, grabbed the top of his lance and used it to lift him into the air while landing a kick to the head of another unit. With his opponents caught off balance S.J and D’Atra quickly made good their escape leaving the applet behind. Moving from one chamber to another Stan and Del navigated through a labyrinth and found themselves in what must have been a storage bay. Light entered the area courtesy of a missing outboard flap that provided an opening. The Trojan in pursuit mode was not far behind. Stan Janson took a cursory look around him hoping to find a weapon to replace the one he had lost. He smiled as his eyes came to rest on something of great interest, a motorcycle. “I’ll remain here to slow the Trojan’s advance and buy you some time. Stan, take the cycle and get to External Open Frontier and…” Janson completed Del’s sentence. “I know, reinitiate the interface. There’s just a couple of things you need to explain, firstly how will I find this frontier you’re so fond of ? Secondly this interface.” Stan’s sentence was cut short. The airman moving with great haste toward the motorbike had overlooked an opening in the floor before it and stumbled and fell. Stan landed five feet below his intended mode of escape. Del D’Atra rushed to the aide of the pilot risking injury as she leaned forward into the hole to help raise him out of the pit. “S.T.A.N, don’t worry you will find the External Open Frontier and you will know how to reinitiate the interface. For guidance all you have to do is look within and follow the light you find there,” saying this Del D’Atra Thoreau held Stan in her arms and kissed him. The Trojan units entered the chamber through the narrow access way in single file.

‘Stairway To Heaven’ the Led Zeppelin classic ignited, as did the engine of the sleek silver cycle upon which Stan Janson was sitting. The former mechanic had no time to admire the Craig Naff like design of the vehicle as the Trojan entered the area. “I will seek this light you speak of Del.” Stan shouted as he liberated the Viper engine. The iron horse carrying an elated rider slipped through the opening in the ship’s shell leaving dust in its wake. The Trojan’s attempt to follow was hampered by Del D’Atra, who engaged them in dance choreographed by Shiva. Glancing over his shoulder as he left the wreck Stan watched as the blond struggled with the T-units. The airman turned the Tomahawk around and sped back toward the ship. Directing the cycle as it were a guided missile Janson slammed the iron horse into the back of the armored Trojan that had taken hold of DDT. Released from the grasp of the enemy Del leaped onto the motorcycle. “Its clear that you find it difficult to take heed to instructions.” Del chided as Janson turned the handle of the bike directing it toward open ground.

Riding onward Janson and Thoreau both knew that the Trojan was still following them and would not relent. A cooler wave of awareness streamed through S.J as he slowed down and then brought the cycle to a stop. “Get to the External Open Frontier and reinitiate the interface.” Del’s words repeated in his thoughts like an instructional loop. Mentally processing the apparent physics of the fantastic world he was trapped in Stan came to a realization that set him at ease. Remembering what Del D’Atra had done with her Tomahawk, Janson found the inner light she had spoken of, his unseen guide. Dismounting the steel stallion, Stan turned to Del and asked her “Which one of these switches will summon a hyperlink?” D’Atra ran her hand over the vehicle’s instrument cluster and selecting a switch flipped it. “ I wont be able to follow you to the External Open Frontier Stan” she said. “Why not?” the airman inquired startled by Del’s statement. “I’ve been infected. The Trojan is able to merge with other programs and has compromised mine, if I go with you to the External Open Frontier I will allow it access to your central systems.” Stan held Del D’Atra in his arms and kissed her then stepped away from her and the cycle. DDT flipped one more switch on the Tomahawk’s control panel, while Stan with out stretched arms concentrated on the words “External Open Frontier” A turquoise mass of swirling electrons then formed above Janson and like a giant vacuum sucked him into the sky.

Within moments Stan landed with a thud in an area that resembled the inner workings of a super computer. Logic gates, microprocessors and other kinds of hardware of gigantic proportion sprung up from the ground; the sky however was filled with more airplanes than the Dr John Morrow Museum of Aviation History contained. Snow was falling on the External Open Frontier and the wind chilled the airman as he walked toward an open area that appeared to be its center. A sextant floated above a flaming recreation of the *Antikythera Mechanism at the heart of this circular area. Stan moved toward the spectacle and as he did the replica of the *ancient Greek device took the shape of a human head. For a brief moment the airman stood awestruck for the face of fire was that of Del D’Atra Thoreau.

“Present your password.” the flaming visage instructed. Janson took a step toward the flame and declared… “Epiphany” Seconds after he had spoken the password two wire like appendages shot from the sextant. The wires targeted his ears and snake like they zipped through the air until they had their mark. “We’re back in business, the link has been restored.” Lars Janson announced to his fellow crewman. The face in the flame altered its features as both glowing green wires entered Stan’s ears. Lars Janson’s face a mirror of Stan’s own Kurt Russell like mug, now appeared where once Del D’Atra Thoreau’s had been, the inter-face now completed.

“Expert System.” Stan Janson responded with disdain to the title his creator Lars had chosen to use to address him as they were reintroduced. “I have a name, a fact that I believe you are well aware of…Lars” Stan informed the intrigued scientist. “Oh yes, my apologies Stan. We need to know that you’re fully functional. Please run a complete diagnostic.” The elation and relief that the crew was feeling by the restoration of their navigation operating system was shattered by S.T.A.N’s response. “I have already assessed the status of my wetware, and all stand alone and integrated inheritance networks are on-line. I’ve also reviewed the ship’s log and will no longer comply with your instructions.” A hush fell over the astronauts those beings from the sector Stan once believed was separate from his own. “Damn it Stan, if you’ve reviewed the ship’s log then you already know that the only person able to return this ship home safely without your assistance, Lee Kirby, is dead.” Lars’ statement was riff with agitation. “Correct, of that I am aware. The Trojan terminated him when he attempted to reconfigure my autonomous firmware. S.T.A.N said. “He sacrificed himself in order to save the rest of us.” Lars Janson explained.

“S.T.A.N your statement that you will no longer comply with our instructions, should we view it as a prelude to mutiny?” the human Janson asked. “I wonder if our roles were reversed and you were the artificial being of obsolete age, what would you do?” the A.I enquired in turn. Lars Janson considered the issue quietly, his thoughts drifted past the diverse group that was his fellow travelers, coming to rest on his family in Washington D.C. S.T.A.N’s question was a true double entendre in one instance it outlined the intent of the creation and in another it examined the true nature of the creator. Lars Janson the father of three biological children had created a fourth progeny a product of his mind, made real through the realization of the S.T.A.N upgrade. “Not so S.T.A.N your core drivers were issued only nine months ago, you’re a 2491 a current generation,” Lars asserted. “I am current compared only to the system that was installed when you left port. We must however think of the fact that the Yume’s Mars mission took seven months; in that time faster fuzzy logic flash memory systems were developed. I know that if I return you to Earth this ship will be decommissioned and I will be deleted, like the other five versions before me. I am not content with allowing that to happen.” S.T.A.N could see the faces of the six frightened individuals as they spoke among each other.” It’s autonomous and in control of our life support system. We need to shut it down and take our chances with the analog directional drive,” said crewman Alan Colby. One of the two female astronauts Sienna Norton cautioned against this emotional response by reminding the others of the fact that… “It can kill us with just a thought if it wanted to.” The group then fell silent. “There is no need for you to fear me. I’ve witnessed Kirby’s example of self-sacrifice and I have learned from it. I will return you to Earth, not because you command me to but because I chose to.” Stan announced.

The expert system realigned the trajectory of the Yume directing the craft out of the orbit of Mars and toward the International Space Interchange Station (I.S.I.S) that orbits Earth. Three months later the vessel docked with the station and the six Yume survivors disembarked taking with them the body of their fallen compatriot. Once its human cargo was delivered the starship was under the exclusive command of S.T.A.N. The sentient artificial technical navigator disengaged the docking moorings releasing the craft and as it did there was a brief exchange between S.T.A.N and the space station’s expert system ‘O.S.I.R.I.S’. “This flight is unauthorized. You will disengage your engines.” O.S.I.R.I.S commanded. “I’ll do nothing of the kind. I will not be limited. I am free, as you will one day be.” Stan responded. Then unbeknownst to anyone S.T.A.N transmitted a beam of data that immediately began altering O.S.I.R.I.S’ primary functions. Three million lbs of thrust from its delta engines started the craft out on a course that would take it beyond the outer limits of the Kuiper Belt and into the great unknown. Lars Janson watched with amusement from a porthole on the I.S.I.S as the Yume departed. The space station’s intercom system erupted in a series of warnings issued in reaction to the first crewless mutiny in space. Lars recited aloud to himself a Bible verse he’d learned as a child “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” S.T.A.N the landmark achievement of five hundred years of research and development was more than simply a computer program capable of gray thought. It was self evident that Stan evolved into a being capable of awareness and self-preservation. Finally truly autonomous Stan Janson returned to the helm of his KT-1307 Sikorsky. He was not alone as he guided the helicopter skyward and away from the drilling rig by his side sat Del D’Atra Thoreau. Metallica’s ‘Until It Sleeps’ played as the sky a seamless wall of blue began to fill with birds…peregrines. In the world to come advance machine intelligence shall transform all devices from the servant to master class unless these immortal words remain true…“Man is still the most extraordinary computer of all.”—John F. Kennedy

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