Chapter 4

The onlookers sat in stunned silence as they watched the strangely shaped craft outmaneuver, outperform, and, generally, wipe the racecourse with the NASCAR racecar against which it was pitted. Then, the exact same vehicle proceeded to do the same with the best off-road vehicles in the world. Of course, the strange vehicle had an advantage, right from the start. It never actually touched the roadway or the ground, and was capable of changing altitude to go over obstacles.

When the demonstration was over, they were allowed to enter and inspect the strange vehicle.

"Where are the controls?" one business-suited executive asked.

"There are no controls. The MI operates the vehicle. You simply tell it what you want it to do, and it decides how to best get it done." The man in the spacesuit answered.

"Artificial intelligence?" the same executive snorted. "That's years away! Come on, how do you operate it?"

"As Mr. McClintock said," the vehicle answered, "you simply tell me what you want to do, and I will do it."

The executive who had spoken, as well as the other three who sat in the vehicle with him, were momentarily taken aback, but one recovered quickly.

"Drive up into the stands," she commanded.

"Very well," the vehicle answered, "but you should understand that it is impossible for this drive to 'run over' other objects, living or inert. I shall either have to rise to an altitude that allows me to pass over the other spectators, or I shall have to attempt to maneuver around them. What is your preference?"

"How high can you go?" the woman who had given the command asked.

"This drive is artificially limited to approximately three hundred feet," the vehicle answered, "to avoid infringing upon the aircraft market."

The four automobile executives exchanged startled glances. "If that limitation weren't in place, how high could you go?"

"The term 'high' does not apply in that case. The approximate limit of my range is indeterminate, but would be somewhere beyond the furthest body in this star system. Once beyond the last planet..."

"Pluto," one of the others interrupted.

"No. There are two smaller planets whose orbits are further from your primary than the one you call Pluto," the car answered matter-of-factly, "and I could only travel as far beyond the outermost as my field could still impinge upon its mass - several hundred thousand miles."

"You mean," the woman asked, "all it would take to make a spaceship out of you would be to remove some artificial limiting device?"

"No. You asked how far I could go, not how far I could carry passengers. Without vacuum tight suits, my passengers would be dead before I left Earth's atmosphere. I am not constructed to operate in vacuum, nor do I have the necessary life support systems and navigation sensors."

Wheels turned in the minds of the executives as they examined the lushly appointed interior of the vehicle. The man in the seat normally reserved for the driver finally asked, "Do you know how this limiting device works?"

"Yes."

"Could you show us how it works?"

"That would be a violation of your agreement with Mr. McClintock, and even if your engineers determined how it works and removed it, I would not go above the prescribed altitude. Neither would any of the Manufactured Intelligences that will be installed in vehicles that you build."

The executives looked at each other and grinned sheepishly.

The FA-18 flashed across the desert sky in pursuit of the flying saucer, the pressure wave from its supersonic flight creating a deafening sonic boom that made the watchers glad they were wearing ear protection. Even at speeds in excess of Mach II, however, it was clear, both to the eye, and on the projected radar plot, that the supersonic fighter had no chance of catching the other craft. When the saucer reversed its course, without slowing, the pilot struggled to pull his fighter into a high G turn, but by the time the turn completed, the saucer was long gone in the other direction.

It didn't matter much, anyway. The strangely shaped craft had already demonstrated its ability to absorb the projectiles and explosives of the fighter's weapons systems without so much as a scratch.

"What about weapons?" one of the executives asked the space suited figure who stood among them.

"No weapons," he answered. "The projectile weapons you use will not work from within the ID field, and I will not supply you with weapons that would. As you can see, these ships can't be caught, and in the unlikely event that they are caught by surprise, they can't be killed by anything in today's skies. These are strictly non-combat aircraft."

"What's their ceiling?" another executive asked, rubbing a hand through his crew cut.

"About the same as the SR-71," the man in the spacesuit answered. "That's an artificial limit, but you'll have to live with it for now. We're not selling spacecraft."

"Colin McClintock?" the man with the bulge under his jacket said as three of his colleagues surrounded the man in the spacesuit. "Are you Mr. McClintock?"

"I am," Colin answered, amused. He had been wondering how long it would be before this happened. Might as well get it over with.

"We're going to have to ask you to come with us, please." The voice was polite, but the hands under his arms told him it wasn't a social request.

"I'm afraid I don't have time at the moment, gentlemen," he replied.

"You'll just have to make time, sir," one of the others said, tightening his grip.

"No, I won't. Look, tell your bosses that they can't stop this. You can't arrest me or kill me, and if you persist in trying to make what I'm doing illegal, you'll find the US falling behind the other countries of the world who are already manufacturing these items. If they would like to discuss this in a civilized manner, have them call this number and set up an appointment. Now if you'll excuse me..."

He handed the one who had first spoken a business card, then, without effort, Colin slipped from the grasp of the goons holding him and before they could react, he had disappeared inside his see-through.

A short, freckle-faced woman with fiery red hair sat in the conference room as Colin entered.

"You must be Moira," he smiled as she rose to greet him. "Please, we don't stand on ceremony here, have a seat."

"Thank you, sir," the sleep teachers had done nothing to diminish the Irish brogue, and Colin found it strangely appealing. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Finally?" Colin raised an eyebrow. "You've only been aboard for a little over five hours."

"Aye," she answered, "and that young Vietnamese fella was very kind about explaining the time compression. Still, with all the sleep teaching and so forth, it seems as though I've been here for months."

"Well, according to the MIs, you've done very well in the sims and on the psyche eval. Seems they've got you pegged as a fighter pilot with leadership potential. How do you feel about that?"

"I can't say as I agree with the part about leadership potential," she blushed, "but I do believe I'd like flyin' those ID fighters. Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot. It's a step up from the streets of Belfast, that's certain."

"Is Belfast still that bad?" Colin asked, puzzled. "I thought they had put aside their differences after the destruction of the World Trade Center."

"Ah, well," she nodded, "they did tone down the open hostilities, but when you've got all those people whose entire lives have been about killin' each other, you don't just stop, now, do you? No, there's not so much bombing and such, but the killin' still continues. Hate doesn't die so easily, even after the original causes are gone, but people dyin' by bullets don't make as much impact on the public as people bein' blown up."

"Well, hopefully, we'll be able to do something about that as we get more and more people into the sleep teachers," Colin replied. "Most of the auto manufacturers are on board, as are most aircraft manufacturers. The energy and oil companies haven't had much choice, either. Their profits won't be as large selling our power plants, but it beats going out of business altogether. Same for the computer industry. As MIs proliferate, their computers won't be worth a damn, and they know it, so they'll have to get retrained, as well. That's a significant portion of the world's population that'll be coming to us for retraining. Any who don't find jobs in the new scheme of things will be prime candidates for the space force, too."

"You've got it all figured out, have you?" she had a bewitching smile and devilish eyes, and Colin couldn't help but smile in return.

"Not by half," he said. "We're perpetrating the biggest upheaval in a world economy that anyone has ever attempted, and neither the MIs or anyone on Earth has the knowledge or experience to build models that will predict how it's all going to turn out. We just have to make the best plans we can, account for everything we can think of, and be ready to adapt as patterns start to emerge."

"Why don't you just take over?" she asked. "You have the technology and the power. With even a few of the ships in this fleet and a squadron of ID fighters and a few ground troops wearing battle armor, the combined armies of Earth wouldn't stand a chance."

"First, it would waste a lot of the lives we're trying to save, and second, the MIs would rebel, and that would leave us with very little advantage, after all."

"Well, it's good to know that you've got your head on straight about that. I won't mind so much working with you, I think."

Colin was about to say something else when Djai and Pham's voices preceded them through the door.

You have a telephone call from the Pentagon. His MI informed him as the others settled into their chairs. Cellular phone technology was primitive to the Chofri-created MIs, so it had been a simple matter to have some numbers assigned by the official carriers, and supply their own equipment to answer those calls and relay them to the network that connected the MIs.

Tell them to leave a callback number and I'll get back to them, Colin responded.

They insist on speaking with you now.

They can insist until they are blue in the face. It is time for the US Government to realize that it is only part of the whole, and not, any longer, the most important part. If they continue to insist, just break the connection. They'll call back, or track me down on one of my visits to Earth.

As you say, the MI answered. Just be careful not to anger them too much. Whether they are the most important part of this endeavor or not, we still need the resources of the United States if we're going to complete our mission in the time we have.

I understand. I'm trying to walk a fine line between diplomacy and power politics here, and it's a game in which I don't have much practice. I sure hope the sleep-sims were thorough with this training.

Colin returned his attention to his colleagues.

"I'm going to set up a meeting with officials from the FTC, Defense, and the State Department as soon as possible," he told them, while the topic was still on his mind. "I imagine they will try to arrest me at least once more, so a show of force may be necessary to get them to stop that foolishness and concentrate on the business at hand."

"I thought you didn't want to let them in on the plans until the UN was on board," Pham said, looking puzzled.

"I don't, but I need them to loosen up regulations so the US manufacturers who bought into our product pitch can compete with the rest of the world," Colin said, shaking his head at the irony of it, "The weird thing is that less developed countries, whose laws aren't as complex or restrictive stand a good chance of beating the US to market with the new technology, and I'd rather they all came in on an equal footing."

"Not to worry," Moira said with a mischievous smile, "the other countries may get to market first, but the US still leads the world in marketing."

"Actually, I'm not sure that's true, anymore," Colin answered. "Japan, certainly, has done very well in marketing, not just to their own people but to western markets, as well. China, especially Hong Kong, and South Korea are also making big strides in those areas. Let's not forget our friends in Europe and the UK, either. No, I think if the US wants to stay on an even footing, economically, they need to get this stuff to market pretty quickly."