[a] Part I: Revolution of the Hyper Mind

Part One: Revolution of the Hyper Mind
"He who sees the invisible will think the unthinkable"

1
"One by one after you, I'm counting too." He smiles gently, an unconscious symbol. "Through the door, here no more."
"Don't glare at my pants" she says. "Purple is very fashionable."
"Fashionable, as is moving fast and dying young - an external song gracelessly unsung."
"I'll kill the poet if you don't know it?" She returns a more personal, infectious glare. "If you want me to take you seriously.."
He quickens his pace and she resentfully matches it. Softly irradiating offwhite lights illuminate their path: a hallway three meters tall and wide. Two minutes pass in silence and they pass through the next door.
She was reconfiguring her composure in the silence, distracted from the hallway by memories of her sister. "My sister will never visit me, she finds this planet and its people too.. 'obscure'."
"Does she find you obscure?"
Her feet pause for milliseconds, losing her even pace. His feet continue precisely. "I am uncertain. We were always friends in the past, even through the Science War." His feet continue to move flawlessly. How does he maintain such composure? She blushes and imagines her sister in a WarpWeapon lab, calmly explaining the effects of Translocated Quark Bombs on the atmosphere of a sealed space habitat. The imagination stirs her to respond: "Friends by necessity, it may have been. She keeps a compassionate, elated expression on her face weather asking the time or discussing the murder of thousands.."
"We are all murderers - and her planet maintained the Zygote Warfare practice. She cannot say this planet is ethically inferior!" His voice rose with faint indignation. Was he losing his cool or expressing honesty? What was the difference?
They reach another door, this one lifting itself soundlessly into the ceiling as they approach, just like the previous ones. Camouflaged doors adorn the two visible walls every fifty to two hundred meters. Their sensors do not recognize the passing biorhythms and thus the doors remain shut. Nearly half a kilometer behind, one of the camouflaged side doors opens and a man stumbles out into the hallway from the wall. Surveillance fails to observe his wobbling exit -- the pair half a klick ahead of him has been surreptitiously scrambling the monitoring cameras as they walk.
Ahead of the stumbling man the saboteurs masked conversation continues. "Culturally inferior, I suppose. My sister's planet is a leader in New Music - the last time I heard from her she still had not tried it and I have not either."
"The mind can do many things through technology, make music or - "
She whimsically taps her waist, touching the wafer-thin scrambler. Treason.
"Or love." The monitoring cameras are oblivious to her smile.

2
"Fourteen fifteen an hour? Last check was shit did they zone the audio too.." his voice trails in volume and he begins moving slower, suspicious of observation in the offwhite hallway. "No. Fuck you all! You can't hear me!" He breaks into a sloppy run, moving slowly towards an automatic door far off. "Seventeen.. times.. sixty.. two.. completed realized I HAVE TO FUCKING CONNECT, NOW! Shit. Did they - how long ago did - time feels normal, but time always feels normal in the present. Past, how far have I ran, it's been thirty seconds.."
He about-faces but cannot espy the door hidden in the wall. "Might be.. might be habitat food if I don't, don't uh do!" He breaks into his second run, this one with clearer, straighter steps.
"Post birth hyper... " he loses his words again, mind still rejoicing at its sensations. "neuro-conditioning fatal.. habitat-SHIT. I'm breathing, you fascist fuckers!" Finding himself uncertain again, he reaches for the spatial-logical mind. "Ten doors. I'm ten doors away. Time, time, fuck!" He breaks into a third run, not stopping.

3
Mari had not imagined her sister more than once a day for seven weeks, so her afternoon memory of Mara criticizing the ArmVault Campaign surprises her. She wonders if she misses Mara or is merely fond of reminiscing, as minds are. She moved in her head to discard the spontaneous recollection, then muses the memory may find her recording tonight - such a pleasant science compared to weapons development. Memories full emotions, yes - wild emotions! The abstract disdain for her sister working on a sentimentally - and philosophically - amateur charade of a planet. Mari, of course, is ignorant of her sister's treasonous activities. Should she have known of Mara's actual political identity her respect would quite improve. As it is, she is meditating on her sister's emotions and grabs a pen.
Solemness. Phobia of Biological Knowledge. Semi-lateral thinking. Emotions? What was she writing? These were something else. Mari begins sweeping the pen on the same page, outlining a painting of her sister floating above a multitude of blank white planets. Five hours later she finishes the painting. "Well Mara. Perhaps you are one of my lost muses.." She remembers to place the paintbrush on its magnetic holding plate then lifts the painting to observe her production. "Untitled #3. For now, Mara." She resets the painting on the easel.
An electronic wall panel shifts to display her programmed message: "NM Now". Before catching eye of the panel Mari remembers her New Music recording appointment, grabs a pill bottle resting next to her paintbrush holder and flees her apartment.
At the New Music Recording Lounge Mari feels a scent of nervousness in her eyes and fingers. She has never expected to be artistically inspired by her sister and feels guilt for not recognizing this inspiration before. She settles herself by remembering the excellence with which she painted and thinks of her sister's emotions, preparing herself for the recording.
The access door opens and a handsome New Music virtuoso steps out, smiling serenely. A voice succinctly beckons her from behind the smiling musician: "Mari!", the tone commanding and friendly. She strides slowly past the still smiling, still-standing virtuoso. "Move him out of the door's way, Mari, he's in awe at his latest performance."
The smiler's smile disappears and returns and he walks away as Mari closes the old-fashioned door behind him. Arms open and an enthusiastic smile on his face, Mari's New Music conductor is standing confidently in the chamber. "What have you got today, Mari? Your eyes - a new expression! So, you should play, I will maintain your brain. Your pills?"
Mari nods her head, indicating she has taken the proper dose and hands her conductor the pill bottle. "Wonderful. The machine is already calibrated for you, just lie down and let your mind free!"

4
Lost in the sensations of his altered state he runs past his destination before realizing the automatic door has lifted, awaiting him. "Fuck.." he mutters under his breath. His movements have regained sobriety but his mind is spinning faster and faster. He walks decisively and rebelliously through the open door. A room empty of people. Darker lights than the hallway and hundreds of personal work stations. He is silent - there are no cameras but audio surveillance still runs in this room. Across the massive room rests one significant computer, looking insignificant in its relatively small size.
He approaches.
A helmet rests next to the computer monitor. Trembling hands nearly drop it before securely fastening it to his head. He enters a string of commands on the keyboard, muscle memory frozen in his brain streaking through his impaired state. He feels a buzz in his brain and then --

AND THEN INDEED
scatterbrained fullbrained everybrain wherebrain nobrain foundbrain somebrain lost, lost, lost, lost, trans trans transreceive messagesend transtranstranstrans mit receive message waiting for him message memory "Hello Operator, Welcome to Control Sequencer17X6-2" appears on the computer's small monitor. He's connected. Time to do business.
Find the switches. Find the switches, copy the switches, mold his brain (push goes the neural structure) copy the layout (through goes the neural structure) analyze the construction (wherespaceshape logic pathing) find that crucial switch and yes activate the electricity, activate.. energy, happiness, breakthebarriertranscendation, fulfillment, serenity - electricalswitch completed CLICK one big shake unless unrest unmoved new transmission new creation now make the BRIDGE (pop goes the neural structure) and just in-time for the biggest electronics show in history. An interstellar life support routine, funding one prominent New Musician, Elected Leader, War Veteran and general habitat-fucker -
The helmet silently whirring, he scientifically hits himself in the forehead as hard as possible. The blow knocks him out from underneath the helmet and the connection is suddenly severed. The synaptical switch in his brain turns off and before his skull slides from the helmet its computerized counterpart switches itself off too. Across the universe on a famous and significant planet, a woman finds her life support systems and her brain have permanently turned off.
Unconscious, the neuroelectric assassin's mouth drools saliva on the pristine floor. The lights shine steadily.

5
Rhythm shines in pulses. An underlying pulse maintains tonal composure even as individual beats flutter and stutter through Mari's emotions. Indifferent yet loving, ignorant yet calculating.. but there was a deeper thread, fluttering beneath all the beautiful noise.
"You're doing beautiful, Mari. This is absolutely incredible." Her conductor slides switches across a sound board. "How I wish I could reach into my psyche.." A smile slides across the face. Maybe one day hyper-neuro-patterning would be available to his generation. The smile turns into a frown, his generation is not old - his home planet missed the New Music revolution because of its political leanings. Keton was notorious for its independence, especially not joining the only interplanetary alliance during the first Neuromagnetic Warp War against the renegade producers of the technology on Mars.
Now, he pondered, there was little demand for post-birth technology and what's more - Mari's face twists into a frown. He throws a glance at one of four monitors and makes an adjustment on the switches. "Doing beautifully." I love you, Mari. His frown glides into a smile as Mary's brain continues pumping itself for sound, his synapse recorders missing nothing. Did she love him? She claimed many of her songs were written by love but did she mean him? Or her self? Or someone else?
Her conductor's introspection is lost on Mari's psyche as it flashes through a memory of her sister smiling at her, then running and hiding behind a tree. Chasing the memory, Mari sees herself hastily chasing after.. shock. Before birth. Her sister. Her. Murdering other zygotes. Outputting energy just like now.. her sister was not too different from her, then? They both had what it took to express themselves, cellular killers from birth! Her brain flashes and the tempo of her piece sharply rises to match this new emotional intensity. Her sister, like her too.. why did she try to forget her? Why did she avoid writing?
Mari shakes and squirms on the table - her memories are too strong. "Feel" she says to herself. "Feel, don't remember -- feel." Love, hate, her sister talking to that man yes that one man and being friends always being friends and they began working together, that re-birthed psychological theory, moved to the backwards planet of C17 and he never got the time to know her, even though Mara never loved him he loved his work always working so much always together him and her he was never able to love Mari never even able to know her working so much with her sister and since they were just sisters even looked the same why would he bother with her that's birth that's life.. why would he bother!?
Her conductor transfers his gaze from the monitors - extremely interesting harmony developments - and to Mari. He knew her eyes were different today, this music is unlike anything she's ever produced! What intensity this harmony holds! He drums his fingers absently over the soundboard switches, continuing to watch Mari in awe.
Her eyes open and soft tears stream down her eyes. The musical output is becoming erratic. Mari begins sobbing and shaking. A crescendo of harmony - he can hear her crying clearly now - the underlying thread spasms onscreen and dissipates, leaving the display in disarray. Was that the end? He speedily studies the monitors, wishing urgently to attend to Mari. Yes, the thread is gone, that was the end. The traditional chaotic cycle of synaptical sequences is back. He stands up, pressing his thumb on the red "RECORD/STOP" button and walks quietly to Mari.

6
"Malfunctioning equipment, goddammit, yes, I said that! It's been checked thrice a day for years - certainly an assassination!" The four planetary inspectors face an equally sized team of medical technicians. The dead Lady's bodyguards stand in a semi-circle around the two groups.
"Spontaneous deactivation is certainly cause for suspicion but we cannot immediately assume assassination. What are the medical and scientific possibilities for her equipment suddenly turning its core computer off?"
"And not back on, as it should have. The power was directly killed - not the product of an accident!"
"Could it have been.." the inspector chooses his words carefully, knowledgeable of his scientific ignorance. "magnetic disruption? Or could her brain have been killed by a neuromagnetic wave - and the equipment permanently deactivated itself in response to her sudden death?"
One of the bodyguards speaks: "Our security here is top-class. No unknown persons were close enough to use a neuromagnetic disruptor at the time of her death. We have interviewed and searched every person in this sector, they all pass scrutiny." He gives a firm nod, indicating the inspector may continue speaking.
Before he can continue a door behind the technicians opens. An authoritatively dressed man enters, carrying a face of professional precision that mimic his words and movement: "We found someone."
All rise, the inspectors and technicians begin jogging through the door. After the door closes, one of the bodyguards smiles. His companion across from him stares and reproaches: "The hell you on with? We failed to protect her."
"We did all we could." he nods, unnerving the voice of dissent. Two by two, they too exit the room.

7
The final door opens, revealing the outdoors and another large building five hundred meters away. He stops just outside of the last door, which closes and locks itself as she joins him. Wordless, they turn left and begin walking. After a few minutes pass they resume talking, this time more openly: "Mara, when will our friend be found?"
"Eight hours, as long as everyone sticks to the schedule." She snorts amusedly. "Everyone here is so precise, we can expect their activities.."
"I am beginning to have doubts about their predictability. We can predict their actions precisely IF we know what they know. If anyone should figure out where we have been, only the stars will be our haven."
She laughs once. "I told you to stop the damn poetry! We are surveillance free and you still insist on rhyming!"
"I like to keep my brain flexible. You know, if what he did worked I suspect there could be a New Music application! I could transcend mere words on a page to create beautiful songs directly from my braincells!" He looks up in awe, head turning side to side to see the short grass they walked on. His eyes lift, and are caught on a fearsome grey mountain in the distance. He turns to Mara. "Of course, New Music equipment managers would insist on regulating the technology with their current systems.. I may never have the opportunity."
"J, should we test.." She aims her head at her waist. "If they change codes.. ?"
"You have to trust our colleagues in this conspiracy. We are all competent."
"He joked about you killing the sentries -- if it comes to that will we be able to escape with our scientist friend?"
J's face transitions from optimistic to solemn. "We will get our assassin to safety. He's counting on us."
She looks at him with mild concern. "There could be another way.." She sighs, knowing it was not true. If the planet discovered their espionage, killing the sentries to escape with their friend would be the only option. She turns to J. "What about the hackers? With the Lady dead.."
"They will keep quiet about the incident until they know what caused it. When they do we shall already be in control of their offices." Conversation stops abruptly as they approach another building. Large letters indicate "CAFE" above the solid metal doorway.
"Have you tried Selvic Squid, J?" They both smile at their conspiracy and she glances at the "CAFE" letters.
"I thought our planet was too culturally inferior for that."
"Oh, not us!"
Three hours later they finish their meal and begin the next phase of their plan.

8
Thirty thousand feet above the assassinated Lady Cevicia a transport ship undergoes inspection at a planetary defense station. Its cargo manifest lists robotic parts due to TechNon Industries for planetside construction. The inspector notes high quality nuclear batteries, electromagnetic sensors, gyroscopes and nanocomputers. No neuromagnetic, nuclear or chemical weapon systems found, the inspector satisfactorily signs her approval. Granted safe passage to the planet, the ship disembarks from the station and flies to conspiracy headquarters at TechNon.
The pilot, an officer in the conspiracy from Keton, deactivates radio communication and activates the cabin's sound screen. "Well," she says, "trivially easy." Her co-pilot laughs, presses play on the ship's music player.
"New Music from Andrea Drake - her seventh album."
"Is Hall of Fame at seven or eight?
"Eight, but she's releasing her eighth album next month."
"Damn, she's very popular for being that young."
"Yes, usually the young musicians lack the mental clarity for the technology to read their brains properly but she is extraordinarily talented. Rumor is her parents have been taking drugs after their first child to improve the intelligence of their future children."
"Was their first child born retarded?"
"No -- he became a cybernetic theorist!"
Both woman, sterile, share a laugh.
"I'm too young for children. Well, imagine growing up on a spaceship - your mother warping through the universe delivering robots for a conspiracy!"
"It would be adventurous.."
The women smile, masking their nervousness.
"You have the data bit?"
"Still in my pocket. Glad the inspector didn't search.. sixty five thousand bit encryption would look suspicious."
"We're professionals. Entitled to professional tools." Wistfully, she rotates her head to look at the cargo bay. "Professionals always get their work done."
"Let's hope our friends down there are more professional than the military they'll be fighting.."
"With these bots? This planet never stood a chance."
They gaze at the bluish grey planet below, considering the significance of their work.
"Do you think the alliance will attack after the coup is complete?"
"Attempt a stealth attack with forces already planetside? Heh, there will be no one to target.. the conspiracy is too big."
"Too powerful. There aren't many on this planet."
"Enough to take over a robotics factory is enough to run this planet.. well, with our help."
"Professionals."
They continue their descent in ruminative silence.

9
The neuroelectric assassin was found seven hours and forty six minutes after J and Mara began eating Selvic Squid. Thirty minutes later he is being treated inside C17's prison hospital - his escape being one of the more dangerous elements to the conspiracy. Two doctors hover over him, another studies the electronic readouts from the scanner around his head.
"Synaptic shock coma. Minor damage - why wasn't he killed?"
The other doctors ponder without diverting their attention. One reaches to the monitor controls and slides a switch to a new position. "Look. Compare his wave pattern to a default - his brain was severely altered."
"I've suspected such a thing would be possible - but this research was unauthorized, according to his department leader."
"He might have been avoiding investigation from officials, but it's not our job to question the activities of staff here - only heal them when they need our help."
A fourth doctor makes his entrance and speaks assuredly: "Hiding information about this man's research hinders our effectiveness. We should press for more information!"
The last doctor, silent during the entire examination, offers his opinion in response: "Perhaps that is their intent. Maybe they do not want him to survive." The four men stare gravely at the patient.
"Zone their politics. I don't give a damn that we are working inside a prison, we are going to keep this man alive and bring him back to consciousness. Get me fifty ccs of MK, let's test his bloodflow."
"Fifty ccs of MK."
"If the flow is ok, low magnet swipes?"
"Maybe. His wave pattern is very unusual." The doctor passes his hand over the patient's neck and injects the needle.
"Unusual - but too chaotic for a regular coma."
The needle is steadily retracted, another doctor wipes the alcohol from the patient's skin.
"Chaotic does not mean he will awake soon. I propose this pattern is unique - we'll play this cautiously but I can tell this will not be by the book." He passes the needle away.
"His circumstances are not 'by the book', either. I still maintain we should press for more information."
"Go ahead." The speculative doctor vanishes from the room.
"Blood flow is ok. Heart rate maintaining, wave pattern maintaining."
"Monitor him closely. We'll give him four hours, keep him fed with the IV. I don't want to do anything further until we are sure he's stable - if whatever he did to his brain has secondary effects we should be seeing them soon."
"Understood." He reaches to the monitor control system and activates the critical watch mode. Any deviations would immediately sound an alarm. "I'll keep watch ."
"Good. I'm going to 402 in the main hospital - driver's got a plasma burn. I'll request two additional sentries to wait outside this room - if the monitor alarm goes off make sure you're safe before you attend to the patient. Bye."
The assassin's brain whirs its electrical machinations.

10
Mari carefully lifts a muscovite glass bottle from a cabinet. "Designer bottles for your wine? You are quite the art aficionado."
Her conductor laughs energetically. "Turn the bottle around in your hands, there is a laser engraving on the other side." Mari complies and gasps in awe.
"Incredibly intricate!"
"And, done without hyper-neuro-patterning. I made that design ten years ago."
"I see now why you are able to be a conductor, even though you cannot play New Music. Your mind is filled with art!"
"It is my life and it is all of life. The world and everything in it is beautiful." Mari takes two glasses from the cabinet and grins at the bottle.
"This bottle certainly is. Besides painting, I only do New Music."
"Weren't you a scientist just last year?"
"Haha, I was!" Her right eye waters slightly. She turns and walks towards the table. "Waiting twenty-three years for my turn at New Music.. I became disgusted with the order and cleanliness of the laboratory after that! I'm so glad it took off like it did, I couldn't have waited another twenty-three years for my second chance. And building weapons isn't very beautiful."
"I disagree. I think there is something sublime in weapon systems. All that power wrapped into a tiny bullet or a bomb.. its like New Music in a way."
"Oh?" She takes a seat adjacent to him and across a corner.
"In New Music, the scanners take your tiny electrical outputs and transform them into beautiful, transcendent music." Mari blushes. "With a bomb, or a bullet, the principle is the same. Take small pieces of energy from a slightly larger piece of matter and with technology transform it into a massive amount of energy."
She pours the wine. They toast, drink, and relax in conversation.
Five hundred meters away: four planetary inspectors, two medical technicians and six armed escorts are boarding a shuttle destined for his home. One of the inspectors reads over his notes: "Yesterday, New Music Conductor Christopher Yun Tali left a message for us saying he knew of a conspiracy to topple the planetary government and offered to meet us in three days. He sounded confident. I think he intended to profit somehow."
"Lady Cevicia was killed suddenly today. Was Yun Tali's identity confirmed?"
"Yes, we traced the message. It was encrypted, but it didn't take long to break."
"Maybe the real assassin is trying to set him up - encrypt the message and spoof the location so we go after a dead end - if he wanted to make a deal he would have waited for us to contact him before killing Lady Cevicia."
"Unless he is psychotic and is trying to scare us.."
"No, I've looked at his profiles. Extremely intelligent but he has very low hatred levels. I don't think he killed her."
"There's his apartment building. Let's go." The driver triggers the doors to open and his passengers exit. With professional timing the armed escorts check their weapons one by one, nodding at each other as they do so. They stand around the inspectors and technicians, covering a wide area of vision as the group ascends the apartment building.
Two elevators later they reach Christopher Yun Tali's door. Behind it, Christopher and Mari are laughing delightedly when forceful knocking interrupts their romantic dinner. "What the hell.. excuse me, Mari. I had no plans for other visitors." With a frown he walks to the door.
A loud voice carries through the thick door: "Planetary Inspectors. Open it."
"Mari.. take your glass and plate to my studio. This does not look very beautiful." Mari quickly takes the items and dashes down the main hallway.
Satisfied, Christopher opens the door and welcomes the inspectors.
The interview has gone for seventeen minutes when the door receives another knock. "Excuse me, inspectors."
From outside the apartment door a male voice shouts: "I'm looking for Mari, is she there?"
Christopher blushes with jealous anger and swings the door open.
Standing in the hallway is a young man with a neuromagnetic disruptor. "Sellout" he says with spite, and pulls the trigger. Fourteen corpses collapse inside the apartment. The young man closes the door, pockets his weapon and walks to an elevator, a frightened appearance covering his face.

11
Nearly six hundred kilometers from the dead Christopher Yun Tali's apartment two conspiracy pilots evenly land their transport craft inside TechNon Industries import garage. The co-pilot initiates the automatic unloading sequence as the lead pilot exits the craft. A technician greets her with a furrowed brow. "Planetary Defense Station let you through. It's damn clean you two have flawless records."
"We're professionals, Tuck."
"No professional works long enough without pissing off one planet or another. You'll get your dirt, sister, with experience."
"Well, professional," she enunciates playfully, "those weapon systems all built?"
"Been ready for a month. Spent the last damn month checking them and reprogramming the bot combat software. Damn clean detection, lock on, mobility, evasion and missile guidance now sister. Here's a hint - don't sell out the conspiracy or I'll get those bots to make less then a corpse out of you." His eyes squint and brow tightens even further. "A New Music conductor attempted to meet with planetary inspectors to sell us out. Guess what happened to him."
"You had a prototype robot?"
"No, neuromagnetic disruption. My little brother pulled the trigger on the rat and the inspectors. Fried the brains of half a dozen bodyguards too. Not a very professional government running this place."
The pilot gulps, news of an attempted betrayal reminding her the seriousness of her work.
"Well these bot parts are damn um.. clean. Top notch quality." She waves at the magnetic coil loading ramp from her ship, where boxes are sliding to the ground.
"I'll get them opened. R wants you to give him a data bit of something. His office is over there." The technician gestures absent-mindedly with his hand.
"She'll bring it as soon as the ship's done unloading."
He waves her off, walks to her cargo and shouts. "I need lifts for these parts, now! Thompson and Amop, find me a diagnostic scanner, both of you."
Startled, the pilot walks back into her ship and finds her sister staring at a monitor readout seemingly lost in thought.
"Wow, you look zoned."
"Hey. Just making my thoughts. We brought a lot of parts. If they don't work then we are zoned."
"Be cool, sister. This is a professional conspiracy."
They both laugh until they cry at her absurd joke.
"You're scared, aren't you?"
"Y.. yeah. I am. This is an entire fucking planet we're trying to take over!"
"Just like dogfighting sister. Target the key systems, doesn't matter how big they are. Everyone has their weakness. Hey, R wants that data bit. He's just over there."
"I'll finish with the ship, you give it to him? I need to be alone for a few." She casts a longing glance at the monitor. The unloading is proceeding without fault.
"Well alright, pass it." Her sister pulls the bit from her pocket and hands it across.
"If shit goes bad.. we could fly away."
"We brought the robot parts here, I don't think we will be stepping away easily if shit goes bad." She thinks about Tuck's brother killing the conspiracy sell-out and automatically frowns. "Hey, I'll leave you alone. See ya."
The magnetic coils bring a crate of nanocomputers down into the garage. Technicians unload each crate onto a lift and begin diagnostic scans. The pilot inside the ship takes a deep breath and slowly releases. It will all be over soon, one way or another. She smiles.

12
Thousands of cables enter the isolated hacker's vision as he rounds a corner inside the chief Planetary Data Transfer complex. Government data soars by him at billions and billions of bits per second. The complex is unaware of his presence, he breached security far above the ground. Now he is in the open with only data passing by him. His eyes rest on a cable, its place in the jungle memorized from surveillance images taken a year before. #172 from the ceiling. He can count that much in milliseconds, his brain freezing everything into place.
He passes the needle from hand to hand. "Step 1: Plant an optic management virus. Already done. Step 2: Open target stream." He stabs cable #172, the change almost imperceptible. "Step 3: Provide a plastic seal." His other hand splashes a claylike substance over the hole. "Step 4: Insert optic parasite stream." The miniature cable at the end of the needle is pushed through the plastic and into the open hole. As it descends, the motion provides the energy for activation. The parasite stream is attached and running. "Step 5: Observe the beauty of your viral information."
He begins laughing, the conspiracy is driving him mad. "All the decisions based on THIS information network? It would have been fine, had you kept your people from being subjugated by the desire for power. No oppressive system can remain, the human spirit will destroy its surroundings in an effort to be free." He looks at his hands, the 47 years apparent. "Relentlessly."

13
"The data stream has been patched with the compressed instructions. And if our virus has correctly unpacked those.."
"Ah, but look at this. The military has left town, and they are all heading towards the same point."
"All of them?"
"Around 80 percent of the army."
"Still no public announcement, as we wished for."
"The sudden invasion of an army you find on your sensors only after they uncloak nanometers away from your city? That is not good confidence, and the planetary systems thrive on good confidence."
"And we on our technology. Those robots, all is well?"
"We did test the software before today. They are the most efficient war machines I have ever seen in a mobile land unit."
"Beautiful."
"We have an hour to kill.. the virus should prevent all air and spacecraft channels from being accessed. Their sensors show nothing and communications are diverted under the guise of an emergency lockdown."
"Its been almost too easy."
"Controlling a planet's population is a monstrous thing. No one can hold onto it for long."
"Not even us."
"Oh no. Not even us. It's a beautiful thing that we don't need to hold on.. we just need that software and we can't obtain it through illegal methods."
"I heard about that. The most secure research planet in the universe. Smuggling it to our Lady-killer will a tricky op. I heard he's in the hospital with a coma."
"I think we can find out how the software works even if he is unawake. They are looking just at his immediate neural reaction."
A beep sounds: the army has made significant progress.
"Slow and steady.." Their thoughts trail into comprehending possible impossibility.
"Hey.. if this software exists - do you think there's someone else using it already?"
"I doubt it. It's locked down too well by the bureaucrats and available only for analysis."
"Funny how they trust a voice they hear interplanetary."
"As I said, confidence lets them live. With no confidence, there is no power."

14
The battle was short: Three million high-equipment soldiers obliterated by the even better-equipped robots. No man could deceive their sensors or aim their rockets faster. Confusion played a part - the three million soldiers were constantly looking for a huge mass of enemies. The sudden onslaught of thermal detection caused the Commanders to be certain they were dealing with a stealth invasion whose masking glitched, or possibly an alien army. With silent certainty three million men were driven 20 kilometers outside the city to find their sensor-cloaked army: 20,000 robots prepared for their absolute annihilation.
33 minutes later, just before the battle finished, a small team of illicitly identified assassins made their way through a planetary bureaucratic network in minutes. With communications and alarms locked down, they were able to kill the 528 politicians and social workers - no alarm online to detect and no office to report to - their neuromagnetic waves murdered all pre-existing consciousnesses in 18 minutes.
After the bodies were removed from office 2 hours later and the army's corpses were incinerated - creating an actual thermal presence millions of bodies strong - new command was assumed at the planet's governmental core.

It took only 4 hours of negotiation to start several interplanetary wars.

15
"He's still in a damn coma."
"It's ok. This planet doesn't know what he's done - the conspiracy is keeping them uninformed. All we need to do is keep him alive."