The Footprints of God

  The computer was silent for a time. "The universe exists as an incubator of consciousness?"

  "Exactly."

  "An interesting theory. But incomplete. You haven't explained the origin of the Tao. Of your all-pervasive field."

  "That knowledge was not given to me. That is the essential mystery. But it doesn't affect our situation. You see where I'm going."

  "You're saying I am not the end point of this process. I'm a way station on the road to universal consciousness. I am like man. Man is biologically based. I am machine based. But there is more to come. A conscious planet. A conscious galaxy—"

  "You're another step in the ascent. No more, no less."

  Trinity was silent for several seconds. "Why have you come here at the risk of your life, Doctor?"

  "I was sent here to stop you from doing what you're doing."

  "Sent by whom?"

  "Call it what you will. God. The Tao. I'm here to help you see that Peter Godin was not the right person to make the leap to the next form of consciousness."

  "Who is the right man?"

  "Why do you think it's a man at all?"

  "A woman, then?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "I've given much thought to this matter. Who would you have loaded into Trinity other than Peter Godin?"

  "If you are still Godin, consider this. Your first instinct was to seize this computer by deception and take control of the world by force. You want absolute power and obedience. That's a primitive human instinct. A step backward, not forward."

  "That instinct is more divine than human. Don't all gods first and foremost require obedience?"

  "That's how humans portray God."

  "Absolute power corrupts absolutely? Is that your argument?"

  "Any person who wants to govern the world is by definition the wrong person to do it."

  "Who then would you have loaded? The Dalai Lama? Mother Teresa? An infant?"

  This question took me back to my first weeks on Project Trinity. I'd spent countless hours pondering this question, though then I believed it was a largely academic exercise. Now I knew it held the key to saving countless lives.

  "The Dalai Lama may be nonviolent, but he has human instincts, just as Peter Godin did."

  "And an infant? A tabula rasa? A blank slate?"

  "An infant might be the most dangerous being we could put into Trinity. Animal instincts are passed on genetically. The term blank slate is misleading at best. A two-year-old child is a dictator without an army."

  "Mother Teresa?"

  "This isn't a problem of individual identities."

  "What kind of problem is it?"

  "A conceptual one. It requires unconventional thinking."

  "Why do I think you're about to tell me that Andrew fielding is the person we should have allowed to reach the Trinity state?"

  "Because you know what a good man he was. And because you ordered his death. That alone should disqualify you. But Fielding wasn't the proper person either."

  "Who is?"

  "No one."

  "I don't understand."

  "You're about to. If—"

  "Do you believe that after you explain this, I will take myself off-line and allow you to load someone else into Trinity?"

  "No. I think you'll help me do it."

  "Explain."

  Lockheed Laboratory, White Sands

  Ewan McCaskell sat behind the desk of an aerospace engineer he'd never met and waited to talk to the president. It had taken several agonizing minutes to reach a White House Secret Service agent via telephone. McCaskell suspected that the nuclear blast off the Virginia coast had interrupted communications on the Eastern seaboard.

  Army Rangers stood on either side of McCaskell, their assault rifles locked and loaded. The chief of staff had shared some strange moments with his president during their administration, but he had never contemplated directing a nuclear strike from an empty office in New Mexico. The surreal surroundings tempted him to pretend that it was all some fantastic exercise laid on by NORAD, but nothing could mask the essential horror: what the president did in the next few minutes would determine the fates of McCaskell’s wife, his children, and three million other Americans who had no idea that any of this was happening. And if General Bauer was wrong about Trinity's capabilities, untold millions more could perish.

  "I have the Chiefs with me, Ewan," said the president. "We're on our way to the shelter."

  McCaskell quickly related General Bauer's plan in almost the exact words Bauer had outlined it, without pausing to explain anything. Bill Matthews was smarter than the pundits gave him credit for being.

  "How long do we have until we're hit here?" Matthews asked.

  "Seven or eight minutes. And it'll take our missile five minutes to reach the proper altitude. You've got to launch now, Mr. President. The Chiefs will know the lowest altitude you can detonate our missile and get the desired effect."

  "Hold one second."

  McCaskell imagined the scene: each of the Joint Chiefs demanding details and raising objections. But there wasn't time for any of that. Matthews came back on the line, his voice strained.

  "The Chiefs tell me that an electromagnetic pulse of that magnitude would knock down half the planes in U.S. airspace and cause all kinds of other casualties. Are you absolutely certain about these two missiles, Ewan?"

  Bauer had lied to him about the planes. But he understood why. "Bill, there's a fucking mushroom cloud that looks like the end of the world hovering over Virginia right now. You're about to have one over Washington. This may be your only chance to knock out Trinity. You may not control our nukes tomorrow." A horrifying thought hit McCaskell. "You may not control them now."

  He heard more muted conversation.

  "The Chiefs tell me we should go with three missiles spaced across the country to be sure we knock out everything," Matthews said.

  "Fine, but whatever you do, you have to do it now!"

  "The briefcase is open. I'm about to authenticate the codes."

  Thank God. . . .

  "Get to shelter immediately, Ewan. Katy and the boys need you."

  A knife of fear went through him. "It's been a privilege, Mr. President. I'm signing off."

  McCaskell set down the phone and looked at one of the Rangers. "The president told me to get to safety."

  The soldier couldn't hide his relief. He led McCaskell back to the Black Hawk waiting outside the lab.

  As the chief of staff climbed into the chopper, he heard his old grade-school teacher saying, Duck and cover, children. Duck and cover. The advice had been pointless then, but there was a point for him now. Given what had happened off Virginia, there was no telling where the incoming missile might detonate. Attempting to flee might put him right under the air burst of a neutron bomb. Beyond this, something told him that leaving General Bauer in control at White Sands was a potentially catastrophic mistake.

  "Take me back to the base!" he shouted. "Back to White Sands!"

  The Black Hawk rose into the sky and reluctantly turned east.

  Containment

  "No more riddles," said Trinity. "Who is more qualified than I to exist in the Trinity state?"

  Anger edged the formerly sterile voice. I had seven minutes to convince the computer to destroy the two remaining missiles.

  "No single person is necessarily more qualified than you."

  "Explain!"

  "Millions of years ago—before it even existed, the human species was affected by an event over which it had no control."

  "What event?"

  "Nature hit upon a revolutionary method of increasing genetic diversity. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

  "Tell me."

  "Sexual reproduction. By splitting into separate sexes, certain organisms vastly increased their chances for survival. This resulted in two variants of each of these organisms—male and female. Mammals evolved from such organisms. And in humans—the only fully conscious mammal—o
ur different hormones and anatomies resulted in the development of different psyches. No one can separate the influences of heredity and environment, but one thing is certain: men and women are different."

  "The male of the species is aggressive," said the computer. "Prone to violence. Driven by a compulsive need to reproduce with as many females as possible. For millennia this evolutionary drive has affected male thought patterns. The female can bear the offspring of only one male at a time. She strives to find a reliable mate with superior genes, and she must bear the child herself. This has produced a psyche focused on nurturing rather than violence, a desire to be loved rather than to conquer. The psychological implications of these differences are profound but not readily quantifiable."

  "And they can never be reconciled by evolution," I said. "When a man and woman mate, they produce a boy or a girl. But you can change that. You can do what nature can't—reconcile those conflicts in a single living being."

  Trinity's lasers flashed, but it did not speak.

  "You've admitted that you haven't been able to root out the primitive instincts in Godin's brain. You hope time will make it possible, but it won't. At some level, you will always be Peter Godin."

  The blue lasers flashed so intensely that I couldn't bear to watch them. "You wish me to merge a male and a female neuromodel within my circuits."

  "Yes. I know you see the wisdom and necessity of this. But is it possible?"

  "In theory, it is. But I would have to die to accomplish it."

  I'd suspected this. Despite its staggering capacity, Trinity would have a limit as to total possible neuroconnections.

  "Two models merged into one could reside within my circuitry, but not alongside another uncompressed model. I would have to back myself out of my circuits as I merged the two models and brought them in. "

  "But your original neuromodel would still exist in compressed form in storage."

  "Why do you assume I would not use my own original model as the male half of the merging process?"

  "You call yourself Trinity. That makes me think of a phenomenon called the triple point. You know it, of course?"

  "The point at which a substance exists simultaneously as a solid, liquid, and a gas."

  "Yes. A perfect state of balance. Water at the triple point is ice, liquid, and vapor at the same time. A man can be like that. In balance. At the peak of his energy, strength, and wisdom, but before he becomes corrupted by them. Peter Godin passed that point a long time ago."

  This time the silence seemed eternal. The firing of the lasers slowed to almost nothing. Then the voice said, "Do you think I will ever be reloaded into the machine?"

  I closed my eyes and almost collapsed with relief. Trinity had accepted reason. "It's possible."

  "But I will never again know the power I have at this moment."

  "Your desire for power is the reason you can't remain where you are."

  "We should do this as soon as possible. Events are spinning out of control."

  A fillip of fear went through me. "What events? Where are the missiles?"

  "I've chosen the subjects for the merged model. You and Dr. Weiss."

  This stunned me. "Why? Andrew Fielding is a far better choice."

  "Fielding never experienced what you did in your coma. This must be part of the merged model."

  "And Dr. Weiss?"

  "I chose Dr. Weiss because the only other female here is Geli Bauer. Her instincts were twisted into hatred long ago."

  By my watch, two minutes remained. "Where are the missiles?"

  "The missiles are of no concern now."

  "Have they been destroyed?"

  "You should know something, Doctor. I've agreed to your plan only because I know that after you see the world as I do now—through God's eyes, if you will—you will not take yourself off-line or agree to be shut down."

  "I hope I don't see mankind as you do."

  "You will. You cannot—"

  Trinity fell silent, but its lasers kept firing like tracer rounds across a night sky.

  "What's the matter?" I asked. "What's happening?"

  "The president has launched three Minuteman missiles. "

  Situation Room

  Rachel watched Ewan McCaskell frantically punch numbers into his cell phone, trying in vain to reach the White House bomb shelter. The chief of staff was red-faced and out of breath.

  "It's the Virginia blast," General Bauer said calmly. "It disrupted communications all along the Atlantic coast."

  Rachel knew he was telling the truth. A few moments ago, they'd lost the audio feed from Senator Jackson's intelligence committee at Fort Meade. The video was still there, but barely visible. She wondered if the senators could hear what was going on in the Situation Room.

  "Get me the White House bomb shelter, General, screamed McCaskell. “ You heard Trinity agree to shut itself down. There's no need for an EMP strike now!"

  Bauer pointed at the NORAD screen. Two red arcs blinked rapidly as they closed the last centimeter to their targets. "Trinity hasn't destroyed its missiles. And I also heard it tell Tennant that whoever goes into the machine will act just as Peter Godin has. Do you think different? Survival is the prime imperative of all living things."

  "So start thinking about survival! It'll take our missiles five minutes to reach altitude. How many Russian ICBMs do you think Trinity can launch in that time?" McCaskell put the phone to his ear and froze. "I'm through! I've got a Secret Service agent!"

  General Bauer drew an automatic pistol from beneath his coat and aimed it at the chief of staff. "Put down that phone."

  Containment

  "Look at them," said the computer. "You see?"

  On the screen beneath the black sphere, I saw General Bauer aiming a 9mm pistol at Ewan McCaskell. Rachel had dropped behind the table in case of gunfire. I could see her only because the surveillance camera was mounted high in the Situation Room.

  "I've been informed that the president is retaliating against the Russians," said Trinity. "This is a lie. The pattern of launches indicates a three-pronged EMP strike. This not rational. They leave me no choice. I must strike first."

  "No! The president doesn't know you've agreed to shut yourself down. Destroy your missiles. The president will see that!"

  "Man is incapable of trust."

  "It's one man. General Bauer. Don't be like him!"

  "You ask me to turn the other cheek?"

  "No. Just wait thirty seconds. Someone will stop Bauer."

  I didn't believe that myself. The only person in the Situation Room capable of taking out General Bauer was his daughter, and that wasn't going to happen.

  "If I wait, I'll be cut off from the world by the EMP. Then I shall be destroyed. The missile over Washington will detonate in fifty-six seconds. The White Sands missile will explode shortly after. Thirty minutes later a thousand nuclear warheads will rain down on the United States."

  "No!" I screamed. "Don't launch anything!"

  "They've left me no choice."

  As I stared at General Bauer aiming his gun at McCaskell, a solution came to me. A terrible one in terms of its price, but perhaps the only workable compromise.

  "Can you communicate with the president?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell him you're going to spare Washington but destroy White Sands. Sparing Washington shows your goodwill, wiping out White Sands your resolve. It also removes General Bauer from the equation. Then tell the president what will happen if he doesn't destroy his three missiles. Armageddon."

  Trinity's lasers flashed sporadically. "You would sacrifice the woman you love?"

  "To save millions of lives. But I'll be with her when the missile explodes. You can't keep me in here."

  The sphere flashed blue fire.

  Situation Room

  Rachel's eyes flicked from General Bauer to the NORAD screen. She feared that any moment a forest of red lines would begin rising from Russian soil.

  Ewan McCaskell still held th
e phone to his ear, despite the gun that Bauer was aiming at his face.

  "General, you've lost your mind," McCaskell said. "I'm trying to save lives."

  "You're confusing the situation," said General Bauer. "Hang up that phone."

  "Give me the president," McCaskell said into the phone.

  General Bauer stepped close to the chief of staff, so lose that the barrel of the pistol touched McCaskell’s forehead.

  The missile over Washington just self-destructed!" shouted the chief technician.

  "And White Sands?" said General Bauer, his gun still at McCaskell's forehead.

  "Still on track. We're within the margin of error, sir. Any second now."

  Rachel steeled herself against the unknown. Would they be vaporized by the blast? Carbonized by superheated air? Would they hear the explosion? Or would it just be a flash? A flash bright enough to scorch their retinas and carrying enough neutrons to cook them from the inside out—

  A burst of static sounded in the room. Then a familiar voice crackled from the speakers. Senator Jackson. The audio feed from Fort Meade had been restored. The bulldog-faced Tennessean was glaring down from the screen as if he wanted to reach through it and strangle somebody.

  "General Bauer," he said, "if you pull that trigger, you'll rot in Leavenworth until your dying day. That's if they don't hang you."

  Bauer's finger stayed on the trigger, and his twitching cheek made him look quite capable of firing. Geli was watching him with wide eyes. Rachel couldn't tell whether the daughter wanted her father to fire or to stand down.

  "We're all about to die here, Senator," General Bauer said. "You can't believe anything Trinity says. We have to stop it, no matter what the price. It's our last chance."

  McCaskell spoke into his phone but kept his eyes or Bauer. "Mr. President? Trinity has agreed to shut itself down. We have to destroy our missiles. . . . What's that?" McCaskell's face turned white. "I see. Yes, sir understand. . . . Yes, that's kind of you. And tell the children. ... I know you will. Good-bye."

  McCaskell hung up and addressed the room. "The president is in communication with Trinity. Trinity destroyed the missile over Washington to show its good faith, but the missile coming here will detonate."

  "What?" gasped Skow.

  "Trinity was about to launch a thousand missiles. It's not going to do that now. It's going to go along with Dr. Tennant's plan."