I Am Automaton

Chapter 19

Captain Carl Birdsall stepped into Captain London’s office.

“Have a seat, Carl. This is Dr. Rinke, the neurologist who interpreted the results of your MRI.”

Carl shook his hand. As Carl sat, he noticed that the office was once again decorated like his childhood home. Captain London wanted him to feel comfortable, which likely meant bad news.

Major Lewis was a no show. Captain London hoped he had forgotten about the meeting, had an attack of conscience, or just lost interest. She sat behind her desk. Dr. Rinke sat next to Carl.

“What’s this all about, Doc? Am I gonna live?”

Dr. Rinke looked nervously at Captain London. Carl knew from the lack of humor in the room that there was bad news.

“Well” Dr. Rinke began, “we found a rather large, highly vascularized tumor on your left temporal lobe.”

“A tumor…highly vascularized. That means it has a lot of blood vessels, right?”

“Yes. That also means that an attempt to remove it surgically carries great risk.”

“I see.”

“Carl,” Captain London interjected, “we think it’s affecting speech and hearing areas in your brain.”

“But my…oh, I see.”

“Yes,” she continued, “we think that this tumor explains why you are able to communicate with the ID.”

Carl thought about this. “Well, it’s not like I can hear them in my head. And I don’t speak to them either.”

“We think it might be some extra-sensory process,” Dr. Rinke added.

“What, like ESP?”

Just then, Major Lewis came barging into Captain London’s office. “Sorry I’m late. Captain London, Captain Birdsall.”

They stood and saluted.

“And this is…”

“Dr. Rinke,” Dr. Rinke extended his hand, and Lewis shook it.

Everyone sat down again. Captain London shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Dr. Rinke and I were just explaining our theory about Carl’s tumor and his ability to communicate with the ID.”

“Yes, a hell of a thing,” Major Lewis commented rather indelicately. “I mean, what are the odds?”

The digital décor flickered slightly. Carl addressed Dr. Rinke as if he hadn’t heard Major Lewis’ comment. “So it isn’t from any kind of psychological trauma?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Such an explanation is unlikely and, frankly, unheard of.”

“But there’ve been documented cases of tumors causing phenomena like this?”

“Well, nothing quite like this, Captain, but minor psychic phenomena.”

“So then how do you know it’s the tumor?”

“Yes, good point,” Major Lewis added.

The digital décor rippled ever so slightly. Carl awaited Dr. Rinke’s answer.

“Well, Captain, it’s our most likely suspect.”

“Can I die from it?”

“It’s in the advanced stages. Yes, ultimately it will be terminal.”

“Can it be operated on?”

“Yes, but at this stage the surgery would be quite risky.”

“Yes, very risky,” Major Lewis snapped. Carl’s mother’s curtains glitched. “Something you should think about, son.”

“But there’s a solid chance you’d survive, Carl,” Captain London jumped in.

“How much of a chance?” Carl asked.

“I can’t say better than average,” Dr. Rinke said gravely, “but there is a chance.”

“And if I do nothing, I’ll definitely die?”

“Yes,” confirmed Dr. Rinke.

Carl considered something for a moment. “If you can successfully remove the tumor, will I lose the ability to control the ID?”

Dr. Rinke looked at Captain London, who answered. “Most likely.”

“But at what risk?” Major Lewis asked, ignoring the rolling of Captain London’s eyes. “Think of all you’ve accomplished in the program. Think of the opportunity that will be lost.” The impressionist painting on the wall from his parents’ living room jumped slightly.

“It’s up to you,” Captain London jumped in,” there is risk, but if you opt out of surgery you will definitely die. At least with surgery you have a chance.”

“How long do I have, Dr. Rinke?”

Dr. Rinke hesitated. “These things are hard to estimate. I would say a year or less.”

Carl looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “I see.”

Major Lewis was getting nervous. “Son, think of what we are about to do in the program…,” the image of Carl’s old backyard outside the window sputtered, “…think about the history you are going to make.”

“Can the operation wait, Doctor?”

“If you were to opt for surgery, Captain, I would recommend that it occur as soon as possible. Time is of the essence.”

“Don’t feel rushed,” Major Lewis pleaded, leaning forward in his chair. Carl’s mother’s oriental vase wavered.

“GODAMMIT! THAT’S ENOUGH,” Major Lewis boomed. “Captain London, kindly turn off your holographic milieu program.

Damn. Major Lewis wasn’t completely oblivious. She pressed a button on her desk, and the holographic décor from Carl’s childhood vanished into thin air.

Carl looked startled, as if he did not hear Major Lewis’ outburst. “What just happened?”

Major Lewis grabbed Carl’s arm. “Son, it appears Captain London programmed her holographic milieu program to glitch whenever I speak, subliminally interfering with you registering anything I say. Am I correct, Captain London?”

Captain London looked flustered. She implored Carl, “He wants to convince you to opt out of surgery so the ID Program can progress with your ability. I just wanted you to hear the facts and make up your own decision.”

Carl believed that Fiona had always been sincere in wanting the best for her patients, and he believed her now. And then it hit him why Lewis wanted him to opt out of surgery. It wasn’t just the success of the ID Program. If Carl were dead, he would be out of Lewis’ hair.

“You will face charges for insubordination, Captain London.”

Dr. Rinke looked positively shell shocked at the exchange unfolding before him. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

“No she won’t,” Carl stated with an authority incommensurate with his rank with respect to the Major.

Major Lewis looked at him startled. His outrage was clear, but for reasons unclear to both Fiona and Dr. Rinke, he dared not express it.

“Captain London was merely looking out for my best interest as my doctor and adhering to her ethical code of practice as she saw fit,” Carl explained.

Captain London looked nervously at Major Lewis, aghast at Carl’s blatant breach of etiquette regarding the chain of command. But she saw Lewis give in, and she didn’t understand why. She was, however, relieved. “Good, Carl. I’m glad you feel that way.”

“But I’m going to opt out of surgery,” Carl added, dropping a bomb on her.

“B-but, I don’t understand.”

“Fiona, the ID Program, this ability to communicate with the ID…this is my purpose.”

“But, Carl,” she sounded desperate, “what purpose will you have if you are dead?”

“Which is why I must use my gift now. This is an opportunity I fear we’ll never have again. I lost my mother and my brother to terrorists. By taking them from me, they have entangled themselves with me. I aim to see this through.”

“But what if you can survive the surgery?”

“I cannot risk losing the ability to control the ID.”

“But the program would still work. It worked before.”

“But the ID turned on us in Xcaret. It was clumsy and dangerous.”

“Captain,” Major Lewis said pointedly, “might I remind you that you are discussing classified information in front of a civilian.”

Dr. Rinke looked extremely uncomfortable, like he wanted to run out of the room.

“Oh, shut up, Lewis,” Carl snapped.

Fiona was confused and mortified.

“Fiona, remember what we discussed…about sacrifice?”

“You’re not some kind of martyr, Carl.”

“I don’t want to be a martyr, Fiona. I want to bring these terrorists to justice. I want them to be afraid for once. We can win this.”

She no longer knew what to say. All of her attempts at getting him to advocate for himself failed. His mind was made up.

“Good choice, son,” Major Lewis said with phony sincerity, “you are a great American.” Then he stood up. “Well, I think we’ve all said what we came here to say, and Captain Birdsall has made up his mind. Good day, Captain. Dr. Rinke.” He left her office.

She gawked at Carl. “What was that all about? How can you talk to a superior officer like that?” She almost sounded accusing.

He stood up, “Fiona, for your own protection, I cannot tell you. Don’t worry about it.” He nodded to Dr. Rinke. “Thank you, Doctor.” And he walked out of the office.

He bumped into Major Lewis in the hallway.

“You won’t be around to threaten me forever, Birdsall. Your days are numbered,” he hissed in hushed tones.

“Lewis,” Carl said loudly, “you’re beginning to convince me that I need to deal with you sooner rather than later.”

This not so veiled threat silenced Lewis. He dared not push it any further. He would have his day; all he had to do was wait.

Carl brushed past him, smiling insolently. All he had to do was wait a little longer. Once the success of the ID Program became public, he could deal with Major Lewis. But not before then.

***

Two Weeks Later

08:00

Captain Carl Birdsall and Lieutenant Nolan Kettle stepped into the debriefing room and took their seats. Major Lewis was seated at the front.

“You will be deploying to the White Moutain Range in Afghanistan in twenty-four hours to infiltrate the Tora Bora cave system.”

Carl exchanged a knowing look with his Lieutenant. This was it. It was finally happening.

“As you know, the U.S. military operation in 2001 was only a partial success. Many terrorists were neutralized, but even more escaped through the elaborate cave system, crossed the mountains, and took refuge over the Pakistani border.

“But we have intelligence indicating that there is a significant Order for International Liberation presence operating out of those caves. You will guide the ID into the cave system and hunt them down.

“Your platoon will be dropped off at an entry point to the cave system by Black Hawk gunships, and one hundred ID by Chinook helicopters. Captain Birdsall, you will lead the ID into the cave and travel with them. Your objective is two-fold: scientific observation and assisting the ID. Lieutenant Kettle, you and the rest of the platoon will form a perimeter around the entry point and protect it.”

Carl consulted his Cybernetic Digital Organizer clipboard. “I will load up several of the ID with heavy packs filled with food and water, as a thorough scouring of the cave system will likely take days, even weeks. I will also leave an ID with Lieutenant Kettle so that I can send signals back through the ID that I’m still alive.”

“This time,” Major Lewis added, “no electric ignition weaponry. They’re obviously too vulnerable. More research needs to be done. Standard weaponry. AK’s, shotguns, and Desert Eagle sidearms.”

“What about the locals?” Carl asked.

“The government is sympathetic to our cause and they expressed that they will give us their full cooperation.”

“So in other words, be on our guard.”

“Exactly. Any questions?”

Carl and Nolan shook their heads.

“Dismissed. And good luck.”

Carl and Nolan stood up, saluted, and left to begin preparations.

On the way back to the barracks they ran into Captain London. Nolan saluted her.

“Hello, Captain Birdsall. Lieutenant Kettle.”

Nolan knew when he was the third wheel, so he excused himself and left.

“Come to see me off, Fiona?”

“Carl, I heard about your mission to Afghanistan…”

She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry about calling you a martyr. It’s…just that I can’t fathom your decision. I understand it, but I can’t fathom it.”

“Thank you, Fiona. I think you do understand.”

“You really are a hero, like your brother. I think he’d be very proud of you.”

“It’s funny, all my life he was my big brother. I always looked up to him. He was always the stronger, more confident one. And now I’m finishing what he started.”

“You’re not the weak little brother any more, Carl. You’ve become so much more.”

Carl smirked. “Why Fiona London, have you fallen for me? I knew it. Ever since Frisky’s…”

She gave him a stern look. “Now Captain Birdsall, you know that I cannot…”

“Oh shut up,” Carl said. He grabbed her and kissed her deeply. Despite all of her ethical protest, she went limp in his arms, surrendering herself completely to something she had probably thought about for some time.

When he pulled himself away from her, he said wryly, “You can have me court marshaled when I get back. But right now, I’ve got some terrorists to kill.”

He strode off towards the barracks to prepare for battle.