The Dark River

“Most products now have RFID chips to guard against theft. They also allow stores to track their shipments. Businesses in Denmark, France, and Germany have chip sensors in the shelves so they know if customers are attracted to promotions and packaging. This will become standard on everything in the next few years. Now watch. Professor Jensen goes to this particular shelf and-”

“That’s enough,” Jensen murmured.

“He picks up the product, returns it to the shelf. He hesitates and then decides to make a purchase of a DVD entitled Tropical Sin III.”

General Nash laughed and the others joined him. Some of the Brethren on the computer monitors were laughing as well. Looking crushed, Jensen stared down at the floor and shook his head. “I-I bought it for a friend,” he said.

“I apologize, Professor, for any embarrassment this may have caused you.”

“But you know the rules,” Mrs. Brewster snapped. “All of us are equal within the Panopticon.”

“Exactly,” Reichhardt said. “Because of our limited resources at the moment, we have enough computing power to establish the Shadow Program in only one city-Berlin. The program will become fully active in fifteen days. Once we get the system running, then the authorities will face-”

“A terrorist threat,” Nash said.

“Or something of that sort. At this point, the Evergreen Foundation will offer the Shadow Program to our friends in the German government. The moment it becomes established, our political allies will make sure that it becomes a worldwide system. This is not just a tool against crime and terrorism. Companies will like the idea of a system that can exactly determine an employee’s location and actions. Is the employee drinking during lunch? Is he going to the library at night and taking inappropriate books from the shelves? The Shadow Program will allow a certain number of controversial books and films to exist in the marketplace. The public reaction to these commodities gives us more information to create our duplicate reality.”

There was a brief silence, and Michael seized the opportunity. “I would like to say something.”

General Nash looked surprised. “This is not the time or place, Michael. You can give me your notes after the meeting.”

“I disagree,” Mrs. Brewster said. “I would like to hear the views of our Traveler.”

Jensen nodded rapidly. He was eager to move on to any topic of conversation that didn’t involve the duplicate professor on the television screen. “Sometimes it’s good to get a different perspective.”

Michael stood up and faced the Brethren. Each person sitting in front of him was wearing a mask created by a lifetime of deceit, the adult face concealing the emotions once expressed as a child. As the Traveler watched, these masks dissolved into little fragments of reality.

“The Shadow Program is a brilliant achievement,” Michael said. “Once it’s successful in Berlin, it can easily be extended to other countries. But there is one threat that could destroy the whole system.” He paused and looked around the room. “You have an active Traveler out in the world. A person who can cause resistance to your plans.”

“Your brother is not a significant problem,” Nash said. “He’s a fugitive without any support.”

“I’m not talking about Gabriel. I’m talking about my father.”

Michael saw surprise in their faces and then Kennard Nash’s anger. The general hadn’t told them about Matthew Corrigan. Perhaps he didn’t want to look weak and unprepared.

“I beg your pardon.” Mrs. Brewster sounded as if she had just found an error in a restaurant bill. “Didn’t your father disappear years ago?”

“He’s still alive. Right now, he could be anywhere in the world, organizing resistance to the Panopticon.”

“We’re investigating,” Nash sputtered. “Mr. Boone is dealing with the problem and he assures me that-”

Michael interrupted. “The Shadow Program will fail-all of your programs will fail-unless you find my father. You know that he started the New Harmony community in Arizona. Who knows what other centers of resistance he has started-or is organizing right now?”

A tense silence engulfed the room. Looking at the faces of the Brethren, Michael knew that he had managed to manipulate their fear.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Jensen asked. “Do you have any ideas?”

Michael bowed his head like a humble servant. “Only a Traveler can find another Traveler. Let me help you.”

12

On Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, Gabriel found a storefront travel agency with a dusty collection of beach toys displayed in the front window. The agency was run by Mrs. Garcia, an older Dominican woman who weighed at least three hundred pounds. Chattering in a mixture of English and Spanish, she pushed at the floor with her feet and scooted around the room in an office chair with squeaky wheels. When Gabriel said that he wanted to buy a one-way ticket to London-paying in cash-Mrs. Garcia stopped moving and studied her new customer.

“You have a passport?”