Algorithm: Nanoverse, #1

Algorithm

Nanoverse: Book 1

Theophilus Monroe

Copyright © 2021 by Theophilus Monroe.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

 For information: 

www.theophilusmonroe.com

Contents

1. Seized

2. The Mandate

3. Meet the Resistance

4. The Day of the Fifteen

5. Leavenworth

6. Ex-fil

7. Training

8. Mantra

9. The Fourth Dimension

10. Hail to the Chief

11. Motorcade

12. Nanoblast

13. Roses and Rewards

About the Author

Also By Theophilus Monroe

1

Seized

June 1, 2032

Kansas City, Missouri

Everything went silent. His vision went black. When you’ve been marked by the algorithm, that’s what happens—it’s as though the world all-around vanishes; it’s as if you disappear entirely. All Brian felt was panic—not because of the darkness, but because she was alone, and he was helpless to protect her.

The last thing Brian remembered was a bang. Before that, Susie standing atop the slide shouting, Daddy! Look at me! She was holding Mister Snuggles—the teddy bear he’d given her when she was a baby. It was the only thing that would assuage her cries. But now… nothing. It was a loud noise. Too similar to one he’d heard before.

It was an angry, violent sound. The sound of an IED striking his convoy.

BANG!

IED! IED! another soldier had shouted. Everything turned upside down, Corporal Keith Bonecrusher Koontz hanging from his seatbelt, blood dripping from a shrapnel wound taken straight to the chest.

Brian had managed to free himself and tried to pull his fellow soldier from the upturned, insufficiently armored bus that had carried his company through Mosul.

Goff, how are you even walking? another soldier had asked… and at that moment, Brian realized he couldn’t see through his left eye. He reached and felt where his eye should have been. There was something sharp and jagged protruding through his orbit. A pain assaulted the base of his neck, shooting down his spine, dropping him to his knees. Then, everything went black.

Bang… then black.

Just like today. What was that bang? A rock striking a metal slide? Perhaps a car accident on a nearby street. Loud noises had unsettled Brian ever since he got back from Iraq. A bang like that, and in his mind, he was right back in Mosul in 2029. He could smell the blood. He could feel the windblown sand strike his cheek. But today, all he’d been doing was trying to show his daughter a good time on a sunny day at the park. The park, then ice cream. That was the plan. Until something went bang.

Brian felt nothing at all. A sensation of weightlessness came over him. Like he was floating through a pitch-black expanse with no ability to move, to talk, to scream, or cry.

A voice pierced through the darkness. It was a female voice. Sort of. She sounded a lot like Alexa, the AI companion who used to inhabit Amazon smart-speakers. Like the one his parents had when he was a child. Brian remembered how he used to drive his parents crazy, asking Alexa to fart. Yes, she did it. He thought it was hilarious at the time.

Brian Jefferson Goff. You have been marked by the algorithm as a threat to national security. By the authority of the President of the United States, you are under arrest. Do not attempt to resist. Your peripheral nervous system is now under the jurisdiction of the United States Bureau of Prisons. You have been charged with attempted terrorism and found guilty. The judgment of the algorithm is final. You are hereby sentenced to life in prison without parole. Your motor control will be returned to you upon your arrival at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary. You are not entitled to an appeal.

Brian wanted to scream. He couldn’t.

My God, he thought, what about Susie?

She was left alone in the park. A seven-year-old, abandoned on a playground. What would happen to her? Brian tried to fight the subtle sensation of his feet moving across the pavement in a direction he had not chosen. He tried to turn his head, to look at his daughter. He couldn’t. There was nothing he could do.

The nanobots had taken control of his body. They were doing the bidding of the algorithm—a system that was supposed to be infallible, the perfect executor of preventative justice. Everyone was told not to worry. The algorithm would only be levied only against the most imminent and gravest terrorist threats. There must have been a mistake.

Brian was no criminal. He was a veteran. He was a single father. He was a patriot who’d nearly given his life for his country. He would have died if it hadn’t been for Nanovax… the same thing that healed him and saved him was now trying to steal his life, to lock him away.

What was going on? Brian couldn’t move, but maybe he could still access the nanonetwork. He focused his mind, turning his vision to a local news broadcast. Finally, something to break through the darkness.

The algorithm has once again kept you safe, a familiar-looking, blond-haired reporter whose name escaped Brian’s memory indicated. Lieutenant Brian Goff, the very first to receive Nanovax, whom President Neuhaus once hailed as the face of the innovation, triggered the algorithm today in Kansas City, Missouri. The formerly celebrated soldier exhibited conclusive reactions consistent with the intent to conduct an act of terrorism.

Brian recognized his own headshot, superimposed over the reporter’s right shoulder. He hadn’t changed much since the photo was taken, though his formerly clean-shaven face was now partially dressed with a six-inch dark-brown beard. He could see the pangs of war reflected in his eyes—a look that he still recognized each time he looked in the mirror. It wasn’t a look of horror or fear, but a numbness, a nothingness that only a veteran could see or understand. Brian could hear his own heartbeat thud rapidly in his mind.

Secretary Dr. Archimedes Flat, the reporter continued, of the Departments of Health and Human Services and Homeland Security, has released a statement on the arrest.

The broadcast cut away to Dr. Flat, standing before a podium in the White House press room. He was a tall man with a smooth face and gray hair parted on the side. His beady eyes, hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses, stared directly at the camera. He spoke somberly but deliberately. It is with a heavy heart that I must report, today, that Lieutenant Brian Goff has been taken into federal custody. The algorithm has determined with complete certainty that Goff had planned and intended to carry out an act of terror in Kansas City, Missouri. The details of his plans are currently under investigation, and my office will release a full report within the week. Dr. Flat paused, removed his glasses, and sighed. You might remember Lieutenant Goff as the first to receive Nanovax. His miraculous healing following an IED attack in Mosul had made him the face of the mandate. President Neuhaus once celebrated Goff’s healing before a joint session of congress. We all remember that touching and emotional moment. This fact makes Goff’s betrayal so difficult for many of us to accept in the President’s administration. But I can assure the American people that the algorithm’s determination was conclusive. If not for the algorithm, dozens of children in that Kansas City park would not be alive today. Information is still being gathered, but I’ll answer any questions I can.

Brian felt disgusted—betrayed by his own government, while they defamed him as a traitor. What the hell was happening? Brian had no choice—all he could do was try to focus on the broadcast. Dr. Flat gestured to a reporter off-camera.

Dr. Flat, the reporter asked, do you have any details on what the algorithm identified in Lieutenant Goff to determine he was an imminent threat?

Again, a full report will be published within the week, Dr. Flat responded. I’d prefer not to comment on the details of the case until our staff has had an opportunity to fully synthesize the algorithm’s findings. I’ll simply say, at this juncture, that the findings were consistent with those reported following the attacks upon the Fifteen Cities.

Dr. Flat, another reporter questioned, what is the status of Lieutenant Goff’s arrest?

Again, I’d prefer not to comment until he’s been fully taken into custody. At this time, he’s in transit to a secure facility.

The same reporter interjected a second question, Lieutenant Goff had been a war hero. Do you have any information on how he was radicalized?

Radicalized, my ass! Brian thought to himself. This was bullshit. Sheer horse crap. There must have been a mistake—all he’d wanted to do was show his daughter a good time at the park!

Again, we are in the process of a full and thorough investigation, Dr. Flat continued. Those details will be contained in my report. We should know more in the coming days.

Who ordered his arrest? A third reporter asked.

When the algorithm identified Goff, Dr. Flat explained, I immediately reported the findings to the President. The arrest was ordered by President Neuhaus himself.

Again, Brian tried to force a scream. A threat? A terrorist? What the hell. Still, he was rendered silent. He thought about his daughter. Susie must have been terrified. What was that bang anyway? It didn’t take much to trigger Brian’s trauma—Dr. Flat had insisted that Nanovax would heal him. PTSD, he was told, was an injury to the brain. Nanovax was fully able to heal and restore brain tissue. The symptoms were supposed to have disappeared. The flashbacks should have ended. But they didn’t. Brian could never escape the war. Not completely.

One footstep followed after the last. Brian could barely feel it, even as his legs continued to churn rapidly beneath him.

He managed to turn off the television display in his mind. Now, the blackness returned. Instead of silence, he could hear the pattering of his footsteps, the thud of his rapid heartbeat as his body was taxed to its limits, forcing him to run headlong toward his inevitable incarceration.

The sound was interrupted by white noise. The static gave way to a high-pitched ringing. A blinding white light replaced the darkness. Brian felt a pain pulse through his body, starting at the base of his skull, coursing down his spine. He tried to scream. At first, his attempt to shout down the pain was met with silence. Then suddenly, his own voice broke through. The sound of his own scream was oddly comforting, the sensation liberating—as if gasping for a breath of oxygen after nearly drowning. His vision returned, the sunlight forcing him to shield his eyes. He felt a strong hand grip his arm.

Goff, come on! We’ve got you!

That voice. It seemed familiar. It couldn’t be, could it? Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the man’s face. His dark, ebony skin still had the same chiseled features that even his fellow soldiers found intimidating. However, his tough-looking features were counterbalanced by round, kind eyes that had always reflected the soldier’s gentler nature. It was him.