Sentients in the Maze: Symbiont Wars Book II (Symbiont Wars Universe 2) Page 19

  “Tiana,” said Jonah. “Aren’t you going to let her up?”

  “I’m very comfortable here,” Tiana said. “You might want to try it sometime.”

  “That would be one way,” said Amber.

  Tiana laughed and rolled over. Still laughing, she lay on the floor, tears running from her eyes. Amber moved over and put her arm around her, pulling her close and whispering to her in Spanish, patting her on the back.

  Jonah wiped his eyes on his arm. Through his connection with her, he felt the emotions of loss raining on her. Tiana had outlived the children of her heart, her first friends on this world and those before them and those after. He could almost see the faces of each as her memories marched back through the ages. Jonah sank to his knees next to her, putting his hand on her head, letting her know she was not alone.

  Jonah stroked Tiana’s shoulder.

  Tears? I didn’t even know she could cry.

  Well, laughing with tears.

  What category did that fall under?

  Amber looked up to meet his eyes. Jonah allowed enough of a shrug to answer the look. It wasn’t his job to translate the pain running through Tiana.

  A few minutes later, Tiana sat up and pulled their heads to her face to whisper in Spanish, “Don’t tell Max. It will just make him more paranoid.”

  Amber met Jonah’s eyes and they nodded together.

  Tiana stood, and hugged them both then turned and clapped her hands like a teacher calling a class to attention. “Okay, back to work. Max, you and Amber get kendo gear and warm up for a few minutes.”

  She plucked a practice sword from the wall and started running Jonah through defense drills. Jonah liked the double kukri blades against sword attacks. The binding moves and counterstrikes Tiana had taught him were becoming second nature for him. As he worked on them, the sense of what she was going to do seemed to grow sharper.

  A few minutes later Amber and Max finished warming up and came over to watch.

  Tiana called a halt. “Okay, everyone,” she said. “We are going to do something a bit outside normal kendo. What happens must stay confidential. Jonah and I will be a team, and you two will attack us. This will be a melee.” She turned to Amber. “Amber, your records say you are third dan. Is that information still current?”

  “Fourth dan now,” said Amber.

  “Congratulations. I will be using my own style with two blades. You can use whatever you wish.”

  Amber went to the wall and pulled out a second bokken.

  “Max, I remember you being pretty good with the saber.”

  “I’ve expanded to some medieval weapons. I practice regularly.”

  Tiana waved at the weapons rack. “Choose what suits you best.”

  Max went to the wall and selected a two-handed great-sword. He also took a knife and stuck it behind him in the sash of his practice gi. “Tia, what’s the point of this?” he asked. “You could easily take on all three of us yourself, so what are we doing?”

  “I won’t be going full speed, Max. In addition, I’ll also need to protect Jonah, who is still well below either one of you with hand weapons. If what we are trying works, the purpose will be clear.”

  “Really?” said Amber. “When he was working with you, it didn’t look like he’d be giving anything away to me.”

  Tiana shook her head. “You don’t have the full picture. Jonah, you and Amber go two out of three before we melee.”

  Jonah took a deep breath.

  God, she’s fourth dan! I’m going to get slaughtered.

  Amber elected to use the two-sword style to match his two kukri knives. For Jonah, this meant that many of the disarming techniques he knew were unavailable unless he could take away one of her blades. That wasn't likely, he decided looking at her confident stance and grip. The best choice was to use the kukri’s top-heavy chopping power to beat a sword aside and follow with a foot sweep to a leg. She might not be ready for that.

  It almost worked.

  When Amber came at him, Jonah moved her attacking sword to the side and managed a right-handed binding move that got him inside her range. Though he got the foot sweep in the right spot, she’d already abandoned the bound blade and was diving away, so the leg no longer bore her weight.

  Amber came back in fast, driving him away from the downed sword before he could kick it away. She snatched it up and pressed in. Her strikes came in at angles that made it hard for him to bind or strike at her swords. In short order, he'd sustained blows that Tiana ruled critical to combat. The second round went even faster….

  Against him.

  “Max?” Tiana said. “Are you satisfied or would you like to face Jonah alone first? If so, please don’t break his bones with that thing.”

  “Yeah, pretty please,” Jonah said, staring at the heavy practice weapon.

  “No, that’s all right,” said Max. “You’ve started grounding him in Abrazzare, I see, but why is he so much better against you than her.”

  Tiana nodded. “I’m not clear on that yet either; it's what we are trying to find out.”

  “Got it,” said Max.

  Amber nodded.

  Tiana pulled her own kukri practice blade from the wall rack. She kept the kendo bokken in her left hand and moved to Jonah’s left side. Instead of standing several feet away, she stood within arm’s reach. Yet to Jonah that felt right. He wasn't worried about her hitting him or getting in her way. Her body position seemed to click with him, and he could sense her without looking.

  “Begin,” Tiana said.

  Amber came in with a strike at Jonah’s leg an instant before Max launched a cutting attack at Tiana. Jonah ignored the strike at his leg, knowing that Tiana had seen it coming even before he had. Tiana intended to block it then parry the strike Max was delivering. That left Jonah free to step inside Amber’s guard and execute a bind on her left-side bokken while driving a shoulder into her solar plexus. Amber fell to the ground with a wholly satisfying thump. Jonah finished bringing her left arm around while turning her blade into her thumb. It popped out of her hand. Jonah put his padded blade to her throat, ending Amber’s part in the match.

  Tiana was standing off Max’s attacks, so Jonah watched how he used the great-sword to create long-range attacks and short-range defensive counters. It was a dangerous, effective style. He sensed that Tiana was planning a move that would leave her vulnerable unless . . . . Jonah moved up to pull Max out of the line from where he could counter what Tiana was about to do. When Max moved, Tiana slipped past his guard and pinioned his arms. Jonah slid over to touch the spot under Max’s sternum with the kukri.

  From her seat still on the ground, Amber grunted. “When he fights with you, it’s like he knows exactly what you’re going to do.”

  “Except it’s not just LIKE he knows. Is it, Tia?” said Max. “You wouldn’t swear us to secrecy over something that trivial. This isn’t something you’ve practiced. It’s something you’ve discovered.”

  “Yes, Max. He knows my intentions. We haven’t figured it out yet, but it means Jonah needs more training partners . . . ones he can’t do that to, and he and I need to practice what we can do together. So, even more people.”

  Max scratched his head. “I can take Jonah, Amber, Jacksie and Austin to Atlanta with me for training once a week.”

  “Your instructor is that good?”

  “At what he does, medieval hand weapons, he’s the best.”

  Tiana stroked her chin. “Then we should hire him to come to us and do courses for the security division. That way we can have fewer critical resources out. And . . . it’s less exposure for Jonah.”

  Tiana put the practice sword back on the rack. “I can lead classes for your security teams in the styles I want Jonah to know. I’d like to have a new team dedicated to his protection led by Amber with Jacksie and Austin as her officers. You would need to take them off other details.”

  Tiana turned to Amber. “If that’s okay with you, Amber. You have an important comm
and position with your unit. At first this would have less responsibility, but soon it will be a crucial role as Jonah takes his project to the academic community.”

  “Less responsibility for a while sounds good actually,” said Amber, “but I hope you aren’t giving me this opportunity just because I know your secret, and for what I asked from you.”

  “You showed resourcefulness to get here. Not many could have found me.” Tiana stepped closer to Amber and touched her shoulder. “I consider that a positive trait, but it’s not the only reason you’re a good choice. You don’t draw away from me even though you know what I am.. See?” she said, nodding to where her hand rested. "I consider that another positive character trait. You’ve proven yourself in many ways. As have Jacksie and Austin. They already know I'm not human too.”

  Tiana turned to Jonah with the same scary smile as when he'd rolled his eyes at her.

  Uh oh.

  “And, Amber . . .”

  “Yes?”

  "Jonah needs to learn how to run like hell. I'd like you to start instructing him in parkour. I understand you are quite good at it. Start with an intensive crash course. He’s a fast learner, and I can patch any minor injuries he might sustain along the way. Can you take charge of that? . . . Please be sure he wears a helmet while he’s learning.”

  “Sure. Sounds fun,” said Amber. The smile on her face was a carbon copy of Tiana’s.

  Chapter 18 (SimSoc 2.0)

  Thus, the highest realization of warfare is to attack the enemy’s plans; next to attack their alliances; next to attack their army; and the lowest is to attack their fortified cities. — Sun Tzu

  The sign shouted in red, white and blue above the entrance hall to the auditorium.

  Welcome Hokies! YoungDems vs YoungReps — SimSociety 2.0

  Cartoon posters of elephants and donkeys lined the walls, glaring across a boxing ring or facing each other in sumo attire or from opposing sides of giant chessboards. A cartoon Hokie Bird refereed each cartoon contest.

  Dylan spotted the registration table and navigated through the students who were chatting and balancing plates of fruit and bagels on one hand while clutching coffee in the other. At the table, he showed his student ID to the girl. She handed him his name tag.

  Dylan Hanson - President Young Dems.

  Dylan slipped the lanyard over his head and checked to make sure his scarf didn’t cover the badge.

  A cluster of Young Dems in the corner caught his attention, and he headed towards them, grabbing a pumpkin-spice latte from the refreshment table on his way. His friends greeted him with a beatbox rendition of Hail to the Chief.

  “Hey, Dylan,” said Ken Strickland, his vice president. “You did the SimSoc last year that the Poli Sci department ran, right? Why do you suppose the Industrial Engineering Department is hosting this one?”

  “Not sure,” said Dylan. “That was a LARP, kind of a boring one though, but this one is supposed to be different.”

  “Larp?” said Ken, puzzled expression stamped on his face.

  “You know, Kenny. Live-action role play.” said a girl with traces of gothchick in her outfit—Jenny something-or-other.

  Jenny went on, affecting a narrator’s voice. “You are Frodo Baggins, a hobbit. Your motivation is to destroy the ring of power.”

  “Yeah, right, but there were no foam swords or goblin costumes,” said Dylan. “I played a minority worker in the material extraction category. It was a bit slow. I guess the leaders of a SimSoc event are important to how it plays, and I didn’t think ours were very good. But today we can expect—.”

  He pulled out the invitation and read aloud, “… utilizing cloud technology to combine systems theory with multi-disciplinary research, providing a useful, interactive glimpse into the socio-political arena.” He closed the flyer. “I’ll skip the list of contributing brain trust members.”

  “Sounds techie,” said Jenny. “I’m pumped for it.”

  Dylan smiled. “Since it’s hosted by IE, I’m sure you're right. I’m glad we have a math wizard like you on our team.”

  “Notice how he didn’t say ‘geek’?” said Jenny, thumping the guy next to her on the arm.

  The door to the auditorium rattled and a huge, black man in a suit opened the door from the inside and propped it open with the kick-down doorstop. He turned and bowed slightly with a gesture inviting everyone to enter.

  “Please show me your name tags as you come in,” he said, raising his voice to carry to the end of the foyer. Then, he stood to the side, allowing people to enter. YoungDems and YoungReps hustled to get warmups on the coffee or filtered inside to the auditorium classroom.

  Dylan moved forward without waiting, holding up his name tag.

  “Thank you, sir,” said the man.

  “You’re welcome. Thank you,” Dylan responded.

  Ex-military.

  The way they said ‘sir’ always gave it away. . . lots and lots of practice with that word.

  Dylan pushed his way through a knot of people pausing to consider their choice of tables and made his way to the front. He took the front-row aisle seat on the left side of the room then turned and waved to Jenny, pointing to the seat next to his. There’d be math involved, so he’d probably need to consult with her during the competition.

  On the stage, flanking a podium, a row of six comfortable-looking chairs faced the audience. An HD video screen—that Dylan estimated to be about ten-feet-wide—stood behind the chairs on a stand. At the moment, it showed a video of undersea wildlife. A digital timer was counting down at the bottom of the screen, currently at 4:49:18. Alongside the numbers, a message flashed—Starting soon, please take your seats and access the website with the personal code provided in your invitation.

  Dylan pursed his lips. Slid money was floating this gig. That huge screen was not from VT audiovisual support and probably cost as much as a new car. Add ex-military security—and what was the need for that? Whoever ran this show had backing.

  Dylan pulled out his IPad, draped his messenger bag across the back of the chair and sat. He accessed the website and logged in before relaxing. Jenny sat down, plopped her bag on the floor and pulled out her laptop. The tables filled in around them. At the two-minute mark, the lights flickered and the private side door to the auditorium opened. Three men and three women entered and took seats behind the podium.

  Dylan recognized the head of the department for Industrial Engineering—the first in line—but the others were all new faces to him. The video screen changed to a slide show detailing the presenters backgrounds their academic degrees and their roles in today’s game. First came the department head then Jonah Galt, the SimSociety 2.0 project leader; he was a data scientist with an unfamiliar boutique consulting firm. Dylan’s eyes flicked from the picture on the screen to the young man in the third chair. Galt looked to be in his early thirties, a bit young to head up a project that drew from so many academic and business sectors.

  Next on the screen was Doctor Adrianna Archer, a tall black woman with slim hips who held doctorates in physics, math and several in biology. Archer wore a dark red turban and matching caftan. As Dylan tried to size her up, she turned to meet his gaze with a brief, enigmatic smile. Unexpectedly rattled, Dylan missed the details of the next four slides, only gathering that they were resource people for answering questions the teams might have during the game. More faculty members were coming in the side door, taking the empty seats around the outsides of the room to observe. Dylan recognized representatives from several departments and a few department heads: Political Science; Economics; Statistics; Social Sciences . . .

  The last seconds ran down, and the department head got up to welcome everyone. He promised to be brief, but he wasn’t, and no one expected him to be. At last, he turned the podium over to Jonah Galt, asking for a round of applause that everyone was long since ready for. The thunderous clapping might’ve been more about relief than enthusiasm.

  Galt strode to the podium. “Thank you
, Professor Boardman and thank you as well for the tickets to tonight’s game at Lane Stadium. Oh, and… Go Hokies!”

  Dylan joined in the laughter from both sides of the room. He made a note of how Galt had delivered the whimsical aside and promised himself to use it when invited to come back after he was a senator.

  When the laughter quieted, Galt continued. “Instead of throwing you into round one blind, I want to help you get a handle on what drives the virtual society model your teams will be running. To do that, we will discuss three things, and then we’ll turn you loose for a trial run. The three items we’ll discuss are: linear thinking; feedback loops and the inherent complexity of systems.”

  The screen on the ten-foot monitor changed from the blue screen to an orange and maroon themed deck with the title ‘Linear Thinking’. Galt picked up a sheet of paper and held it overhead. “Let’s look at something familiar, a common sheet of paper. If you fold it as many times as you can, which we’ll call six times.” He folded as he spoke. “The folded paper ends up about a quarter of an inch thick.” He held it up to show the room. “Now I want you all to click on the pop-up that we’ve just introduced to your screen if you are logged on. And, the IT team tells me that, indeed, you are all logged on—congratulations.”

  Galt gave them a few seconds to get to the link. Then he said, “Now let’s use our imaginations and guesstimate what it would look like if we could fold a piece of paper thirty times. How thick would that be? Of course, we’d need a bigger sheet of paper than we have here. Don’t give in to the temptation to use a calculator or your computer; just pick metric or American standard and enter your guess. I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

  The sound of keyboards clicking dominated the room. Dylan considered then entered a guess of fifty meters. The sound of keyboards died down and Galt said, “Good work folks. It’s a record. We finished in twenty seconds. It looks like we had four quant wizards who actually knew the answer. It’s a known math puzzle after all, but here is what the distribution looks like when we scrub out those four.” An XY chart appeared on the screen with the estimates clustered into different size circles. “The largest guess was five miles, a little over eight kilometers on the metric scale you see on the screen. But, the actual height of a piece of paper folded in half thirty times would be 100 kilometers high and would reach to outer space.” He paused for a moment as he walked back to the podium. “By the way, another twelve folds would reach to the moon. The point is that our minds don’t normally estimate well when they encounter accelerating change.”