Patterns of Chaos: Book One - The First War

It began, near as history can tell, in the year 2047. That is when he first emerged as a scientist and entrepreneur in multiple fields; medicine, consumer electronics, armaments - And that last is what he quickly became known for. World governments clamored for access to his designs. Nuclear weapons with no fallout or risk of climate change from their usage, small arms that could cut down unarmored troops as a hot knife through wax, new forms of drone weapons that easily distinguished friend from foe with no external guidance.

Not to say other products bearing the intertwined Greek characters of his manufacturing consortium did not flood the market. New antibiotics that eliminated many of the world’s worst diseases were distributed at minimal cost to consumers. Those who could not afford the pittance, such as the world’s most impoverished nations, found large supplies of these medicines delivered via armed guards to hospitals and shelters. Pharmaceutical companies that complained they were being forced out of business were purchased with proceeds from the armaments division.

By the time the world realized that he was buying their loyalty, it was almost too late. Rumours began that the company had tested many weapons on captives purchased from despots who wanted their enemies to disappear. In order to test the miracle cures, other victims were deliberately infected, with those given unsuccessful versions of the drugs dying in anguish, their incriminating corpses incinerated to hide the company’s wrongdoing.

But rumours are just that without proof. And the good work done by the company cast those who believed in the conspiracy theories as insane or jealous.

Then evidence of something else began to show. His employees began to show signs of a cult-like fanaticism towards him. Whispers that he could grant those who he deemed worthy enough the gift of immortality spread. Finally, evidence came, but at tragic cost.

An employee, emotionally disturbed following a failed relationship, went on a rampage in a small Midwestern town. Armed with one of the company’s newest small arms, he killed over two hundred civilians and police officers before he was brought down by approximately fifty-seven rounds of conventional ammunition. The autopsy revealed that the first few bullet wounds had almost completely healed by the time of death, along with other evidence that something had been introduced into the man’s genetic code, one of the effects being that his blood would fluoresce green under certain lighting conditions.

An investigation of the company began. However, when investigators arrived, millions of documents had been destroyed and almost all the employees had vanished.

All but one.

He was found seated in his office in the company’s headquarters in Toronto, brown hair neatly styled, green eyes glinting. With a sardonic smile he offered his wrists and entered custody quietly.

Charged with illegal human experimentation primarily, followed with comparatively minor charges such as evidence tampering, his defense was meager and yet powerfully chilling. “The man volunteered. It was his life to do with as he pleased. In addition, it pleased him to allow me to further his evolutionary progress. As all my subjects do.”

“How many subjects, sir?”

The smile became more chilling. “Now, that would be telling. Let’s just say...enough.”

“Your honor...”

The judge, one David Clemens, directed him to answer the question.

Looking incredibly bored by the proceedings, the former CEO of Psi-Omega Industries, Paul Stragdoc, began to utter the following address:

“How many, you ask? You truly want to know how many people have had their evolution accelerated to the point where the weapons of yesterday now have zero effect on them? How many people have been spared the ravages of not only disease, but of the slow death of old age? Because that is what I have done. I’ve sped up the evolutionary clock, remade humanity, and brought it to a new paradigm!”

Stragdoc, once voted as one of the most handsome billionaires in the world, now launched a tirade that twisted his features into something monstrous and insane.

“Why should you fear these children of mine? Because they are new? Different? Because I didn’t follow some outdated protocol to seek approval to perform this treatment? Every. Single. Person. Volunteered. When they heard what the stakes were, you are damn right they volunteered. Also, if I had ′sought approval’," he sneered. “How long before federal governments the world over would seek to restrict the process? How long before it became the sole property of the incompetent political class? The so-called ‘one-percent’, of which I am forced to call myself by virtue of my bank account alone, would have demanded that I limit the process to only the wealthy, the upper crust. Would the common man have had an opportunity to taste freedom from age and death?”

The prosecutor, who had until this point by his own later admission been captivated by the ferocity of the defendant’s words, meekly asked Judge Clemens to direct the witness to answer.

“Fine. You want an answer to how many first new men, homo alpha novus, are among you now? I honestly do not know. At least every employee on my payroll is, no matter if he was a project lead or the poor schlub scrubbing toilets. Therefore, worldwide, I suppose that would be, what, two and a half million? However, there is an added wrinkle: The process can spread via fluid transfer. Many of them were blood donors. They may have had sexual partners outside of the company. But you will never find them all. Not until it’s too late and Homo sapiens go the way of the Neanderthals. We are as far separated from you as you are from the common chimpanzees. In a few hundred years, why I bet the few remaining Homo sapiens will be largely kept in zoos, flinging their excrement against the bars in frustration that their ancestors lacked the vision to better themselves!”

Here Stragdoc erupted in mad laughter, with Judge Clemens being forced to call a recess, with the defendant to be escorted to a holding facility. The press covering the trial exploded out of the courtroom to broadcast this shocking new revelation, that humanity stood on the brink of irrelevance in the wake of homo alpha novus, which would eventually be contracted down to homo alpha, then later Alphite.

Stragdoc continued to laugh in his isolation cell, but far less intensely; more of a chuckle now. Truth be told, there were far fewer of his children than he had told the court, maybe only a quarter of a million. Nevertheless, with official employee records having been destroyed, Stragdoc could have invented any high-sounding number and gotten the same reaction he wanted. Panic and chaos. For he knew in the ensuing panic, the waves of xenophobia that would follow, he was going to emerge more powerful than ever.

He was right about the panic. Riots broke out across the country, people accusing their neighbours of secretly being Alphites, of concealing the secret of immortality from them. As the first night lengthened, the rioting intensified. Guards were posted outside Stragdoc’s cell as the rioters moved closer to the courthouse, intending to free him and tear the secrets of immortality from him. As for the man himself, his laughter had stopped, but a wide grin spread across his face, unsettling his guards more than the nearing mob. Fearful, they radioed for further assistance. Within ten minutes, a helicopter ostensibly filled with reinforcements landed on the roof. Within five more minutes, the guards were dead or dying.

The heli had not carried additional police, or even rioters. Instead, it bore employees of Psi-Omega Industries, come to free their leader as part of a plan to increase his influence - his legend. The Midwestern rampage was not part of the plan, but more the instigator of things. Aware that the secret was out, Stragdoc had planned his surrender and “confession” as a means to an end.

And that end was chaos.

One guard lived long enough to relate some of what happened during the escape. Stragdoc had been grinning, but seemed to be straining at the same time. Just as the “reinforcements” arrived, Stragdoc’s cell crashed open. No one had touched it, there was no remote access, it had simply...opened. Two of the guards dropped as if struck from behind, autopsies later showed they died of broken necks. Stragdoc’s people shot the rest, with the one survivor taking a round in the side. Once the shooting stopped, the leader marched over to Stragdoc, saluted, and handed him a coat. “Reinforced, as per your orders sir.”

“Yes, thank you, Major.” Stragdoc chuckled. “Better safe than sorry, eh?”

“As you say, sir. The mob has reached the walls of the building, we should leave now.”

“One moment.” Stragdoc raised a hand, eyes searching the room. “We have a survivor.” The disgraced mogul picked his way over to the surviving guard, and once at his side, Stragdoc kneeled down next to him. “Well, this has been fun, hasn’t it?” The hateful grin was back. The guard’s teeth were gritted in pain, he could not respond. “You’re dying. However, you will live long enough to tell what has happened here. Do make sure to relate every word.” Stragdoc winked, then stood and strode for the door, his personal guards falling for into step behind him. The last thing the officer heard was Stragdoc saying something about “Site A being readied”.

Just after he relayed this information to the real reinforcements that arrived about fifteen minutes after Stragdoc’s escape, the guard died. His wound was not fatal, his heart just...stopped.