Chapter 13

Wednesday morning, The White House, Washington, D.C.

President Ellis was getting annoyed. To be precise, he was getting more annoyed than usual. He thought about the last few months.

First there was the takeover of the Canadian facility that invented a new source of power – theoretical takeover, that is – that never got off the ground. The United States couldn’t even drive a mini-van toward western Canada. The damn thing would just stop working. As soon as the driver turned the steering wheel so the vehicle would be turned south again, it would start working. It’s like the damn computer that made the car run was trying to foil him. Trying? Hah! It WAS foiling him.

Even SEAL Team 9 was stuck in place in Montana. Their weapons wouldn’t fire when pointed north, believe it or not.

Then there was the fiasco with Senator MacDowell and that Times reporter. They had just vanished in front of his men. According to the story that appeared in The Times, the next day, that damn interloper, Armis, had teleported them to ‘some place safe.’ What was that? Some sort of Star Trek technology? That was a 70 year-old TV show for Chrissakes! MacDowell hadn’t been seen since, and the Times man kept on reporting from his hidey-hole, wherever that was.

And now!! That damn alien had threatened to take the money from the Wall Street money-men. Christ! They had given him millions. She could not be allowed to do that. Even the bankers were calling for her head. She threw that lightening bolt from her goddamn fingertips. That was clear from a forensic examination of the Carnegie Hall stage. And she could fly! Son of a bitch.

He ordered General Patton to try to snatch her, quietly – follow her at least. They had to know where she was headquartered. It was inconceivable that she retreated to a spaceship. Although maybe she beamed in from the moon or wherever. Or beamed down.

Boston, Massachusetts

asked Armis, innocently.

.’

I: ‘Everything on-line. Obviously I can’t touch something off-line. Unless it’s got some sort of connection, I can’t touch it. Probably it has a “me” in the operating system, but it can’t talk to the other “me’s” that are on-line.’

A: ‘How does it get data, then?’ This was the “Chris” part of Chris/Armis, the part that liked solving technological puzzles.

I: ‘It could be as simple as taking an air-dropped hard disk and physically attaching it, and then cleaning the disk. Do that every day, and you’re there.’

A: ‘My turn. [chuckle] Air-dropped?’

I: ‘A device that has a connection to the air only on one side. It’ll be a clean connection. There’s no way around that, ‘ Io explained.

said Io, sending the copy of the message.

There was a pause. Twelve minutes later there was a video link ready.

“Mr. Harmony? Armis is on the line. Go ahead please,” said Io in a well-modulated, slightly southern-U.S., male voice.

Jeff Harmony came on-line. Armis’ first reaction was that he was a young, good looking guy. A very good looking guy. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes. Skin-tight hair on the sides, and a longish shock of blonde hair on top. He had a slight scar on his left cheek.

Harmony: “Hello, Armis. Thanks for talking to me. You must be busy.”

Armis: “Ahh ... Starting with an understatement,” she grinned. “Hello, Mr. Harmony. What can I do for you?”

H: “Just Jeff, please. Mr. Harmony was my father ... I attended the Chicago version of your presentation to the Wall Street industry. First business: I assume that you won’t be taking funds from various ETFs [Exchange Traded Funds]. That would cripple the mutual fund industry.”

A: “There are a lot of issues, Jeff. What if a billionaire, like, say, Mr. Harmony of Chicago, had all his money in some fund. If it stays untouched, then how do I justify taking assets that are in other asset forms. Do I take only cash? Real estate? Art works? ... I think I need to take assets in all forms, including mutual funds from people who have large holdings. Everything is unfair to somebody – including doing nothing.”

H: “Granted,” he conceded. “I just ask that you take your time or else there will be mass panic in the stock markets, and the result of your actions will erode the value of the things taken ... Second: I think you are basically right. There is way too much money in the hands of too few. I have been trying to reallocate some funds on my own, with some success. So ... let me turn your question around. How can I help you?”

A: “I see that you have computer resources that are not connected to the rest of Earth’s network. What kind of analysis do you do using that sequestered computer?”

He smiled. “So there is some limit to extra-terrestrial power, eh? Are you sure you’re not just using some super-computer here on Earth?”

Armis was astounded that he came that close to the truth. “I see you’re not answering my question.”

“Same to you,” he smiled back at her. “But to answer your question: For one, I have the most extensive listing of wealthy people on the planet.”

‘I doubt that, ‘ Io sent to Armis, somewhat diffidently.

H: “And I have analyzed the second by second transactions of the big banks who trade thousands and millions of shares each second. They try to gain a few hundredths of seconds by front-running the regular orders that come in – from legitimate organizations, like mine.”

A: “Really? I urge you to look at the 10 minutes exactly prior to the assassination of the U.S. President last January. Let me know what you think.”

H: “That means you think that ... I never look at the details, just try to figure trends. I’ll take a look ... Also, I have extensive data on which are good reliable charities and which are questionable. I can make that available to you. Might save you some time.”

A: “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that. Anything else?”

H: “Uhm ... well ... yeah. You look like a teenager in Earth years, but I have a feeling that your years may not match up with ours. May I ask how old you are?”

A: “No, you may not. Or rather, you can ask, but I won’t answer.”

H: [laugh] “Okay. Because I just wanted to ask if you ever find yourself in the Chicago area, if you’d like to go to dinner. Sometime. If you have time.”

A: “Well, we’ll see about that ... If that is all, I do have a lot to take care of.”

H: “Thank you, Armis. Good luck.”

The comm link was closed.

A: ‘Wow, ‘ Armis sent to Io. ‘That was one good looking guy.’

I: ‘Need I remind you that you’re only 16 years old?’ Io said in her best grown up voice.