The Aegis Solution (6 page)

The tech arrived with the communication device, gave Elias a quick lesson, and hastily departed,
clearly uncomfortable with the tension level in the room. The final disagreement arose, as it inevitably
did, over the subject of transportation to Arizona. Faulk was in a hurry, as he always was, and told Elias
that a jet was already standing by at Andrews Air Force Base. As Elias demurred, telling Faulk that a
perfectly good train traveled the route, Faulk exploded, his ranting interrupted by Marilyn, who tapped
twice on Faulk's door and entered.

Acting as though she were oblivious to her boss's suspended tantrum, she handed an envelope to
Elias and said, "You're all set. You leave on the Crescent tonight at six-thirty."

Hearing this, Faulk sputtered before saying, "Elias, it's going to take you three days to get there. I
can have you on the ground at Davis-Monthan in three hours!"

Elias thanked Marilyn and turned to Faulk, a hint of a smile on his face. "So?"

Marilyn winked at him and left.

"This assignment was requested from the very top. I'm supposed to go tell him you hopped on a
slow-moving train to Arizona?"

"Honestly, Richard, I don't give a damn what you tell him. You picked me. You know how I travel.
If you want someone there in three hours, send someone else."

The images of the unpleasant discussion still lingered in his mind as Elias saw the first hints of the
lush swamp lands which would be his view for the balance of this leg of the journey. The club car was
nearly half full with passengers, mostly refugees from the coach cars: a group of four men placidly
sipping their drinks and playing cards, a family with several small children who were running up and
down the center aisle, whooping and shouting, the cacophony they raised no doubt dampening the
reverie of an elderly couple who were seated side by side, facing a window. Other than Elias, the couple
seemed to be the only occupants who were attempting to experience the minutiae of a train ride through
the bayou.

He returned his gaze to the window and tried, once again, to visualize what he was going to
encounter inside Aegis. No one really knew how many people were in residence. Actually, Elias realized,
that was not completely true. With the existence of the entrance surveillance camera, which was divulged
to him only yesterday, he surmised that there probably was a head count, at least a tally of those who
had entered. That number was somewhere in the briefing papers he had yet to fully read. There were
two variables which would affect the reliability of that number as any sort of a basis for the current
population. The first, of course, would be deaths. The second, and this was one of the many things
William Walker never contemplated in his emotional rush to open Aegis, would be births.

It seemed obvious, in retrospect, that if you put men and women together anywhere, offspring were
going to result. However, the enabling legislation creating the institution did not acknowledge this reality
and failed to address what to do with these children. It was presumed that the parents understood the
ramifications of what they were getting into when they checked in. They knew that one of the inviolable
terms of entrance was that it was a one-way ticket. But the children…were they to spend their entire
lives inside the walls of Aegis? They had no voice in the decision.

This, along with a multitude of other issues, was grist for public debates, position papers, and
think-tank studies. The public was constantly reminded that the core concept of Aegis was that the net
effect of choosing to enter was, from the perspective of society, equivalent to death. There could be no
contact, no communication; in no way could anyone who was inside have even the slightest effect on
the external world.

So, in the twisted logic of the current proponents, it followed that those children would have never
been born, because their parents would have chosen the act of suicide rather than checking in. And,
therefore, if one were to follow the fundamental premise of Aegis, society had no obligation to even
acknowledge their existence.

While Elias occupied his mind with thoughts of the bizarre construct he planned to enter, a part
of him was aware of the train attendant who corralled the clamorous youngsters and seated them in a
circle of chairs. He placed a game of some sort on the table before the children and softly cajoled them
to join in, serving the function neglected by the parents who were oblivious to the mayhem their
progeny were causing.

Multi-tasking, a portion of his mind continued its attempt to conjure an image of what the world
inside Aegis would be like, while another part dwelled on the question of what kind of parents he and
Leah would have been, had they been given the chance. Both of these avenues were dark and murky,
offering nothing but an inexhaustible source of depression and angst. It was down these two shadowy
paths his mind doggedly wandered throughout the remainder of the trip into New Orleans.

Elias stepped down from the train onto the covered platform of the New Orleans Union Passenger
Station. The Crescent had arrived on time, and it was close to 7:30 in the evening. He was not hungry,
having eaten in his bedroom compartment almost two hours earlier. The Sunset Limited was scheduled
to depart New Orleans shortly before noon the next day. Elias went through the routine of a cab ride,
an overnight stay in the nearby Windsor Court Hotel, and the ride back to the station, without indulging
in even a moment of sightseeing. He was not tempted by Harrah's Casino, Morton's, or the shops along
the Riverwalk Marketplace, all within short walking distance of his room.

The following morning, Elias arrived at the station at a few minutes after ten, immediately found
a Red Cap, and showed him his first-class ticket. The baggageman greeted him pleasantly, "Good
morning, boss. Hop in," and took the one suitcase Elias was carrying, placing it onto the rear deck of
his cart.

Elias was barely settled into his seat when the Red Cap floored the pedal and the electric cart shot
forward. With a series of long beeps on the horn, the man expertly maneuvered the cart, weaving
through the maze of people and luggage, scooting blithely past the long line of passengers waiting at
the gate for permission to board the train.

"What's your name?" Elias asked, shouting over the whine of the cart and the noise of the terminal.

"Barton," he answered without turning his head. "Willis Barton."

"I'm Elias Charon."

"Mister Charon," Barton yelled as he swerved the cart into an access tunnel at full speed, missing
the concrete wall by mere inches, "a fine and proper French name. It is a pleasure to make your
acquaintance, sir."

"If you don't mind, I'll shake your hand after you're finished driving." Elias was gripping the edge
of the canopy above his head to stop himself from sliding out of the vehicle.

Barton tilted back his head and barked out a laugh. "Fair enough, Mister Charon. Fair enough."

They exited onto the platform next to the blue and silver train. Barton swerved to make room for
another Red Cap to pass, the tires of the cart coming so close to the edge of the concrete that Elias was
certain they were going to plunge down onto the empty track. Successfully completing the slalom
maneuver, Barton continued heading toward the front of the train, passing the observation car, the club
car, and the dining car, and coming to a stop at the first sleeper.

Barton slid off his seat and grabbed the single suitcase from the back. "Here we are."

Elias swung around and planted his feet on the concrete, standing slowly. "Is this my sleeper?"

"Yes, sir, it is. You got the best car on the train."

"Why is that?"

"It's the closest one to the dining car and the farthest from the engine. Bedroom E is six inches
bigger than the others on the car. And, best of all, your attendant is my brother, Napoleon."

Elias, a frequent train rider, was accustomed to the pervasive nepotism in the ranks, at least in the
service roster of the train employees. Frequently, the attendants, once called porters, were third- or even
fourth-generation employees, their grandfathers working for the railroads then owned by Santa Fe,
Burlington Northern, Union Pacific, or the fallen flag of the Southern Pacific, and many times bringing
the entire family into the profession.

"I'll go fetch him," Barton promised, disappearing through the open door of the car.

As he waited, Elias took in the sights, sounds, and smells which had always brought him pleasure:
the throbbing hum of the engines, the smell of the diesel exhaust, and the look of the train itself poised
on the track. Despite his ever-present malaise, Elias detected a faint tremor of excitement as he
contemplated climbing aboard for the second leg of his journey.

He was shaken from his pleasant meditation when he heard Barton emerge from the sleeper car.
"I found him, but he's still trimming himself up. I'll take you up to your room."

Elias smiled at Barton. "Thanks, but I know the way and I think I can still handle my suitcase."

The baggageman paused and asked, "You sure? It's no problem. Besides, I've got to earn that
generous tip you're going to give me."

Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty, handing it to Barton. "You already have, my
friend."

The bill disappeared instantly, and Barton snatched up the suitcase, carried it up the two steps, and
placed it on the stamped-steel diamond pattern of the deck inside the car.

"Thank you, sir. And you have a wonderful trip. Are you heading to Tucson to see folks?"

"No. I'm afraid it's business."

Either the tone of Elias' voice or the change in his face signaled to Barton that he had touched a
nerve with his innocuous question. He stuck out his hand and said, "I'll take that handshake now, sir."

Elias gripped the baggageman's hand. The handshake was firm as Barton looked into Elias' eyes
and cautioned, "You be safe, okay?"

There was something in the delivery that gave Elias pause. He returned the stare, replying quietly,
"I will."

Elias navigated the narrow, twisting staircase and turned left, spotting the sliding door for Cabin
E. He had to turn sideways to go in while carrying the suitcase. With his one piece of luggage safely
stowed on the overhead rack, Elias dropped down into the seat by the window.

Within minutes, Barton's brother arrived, standing in the narrow doorway and leaning his head into
the compartment. "You must be Mister Charon."

Elias confirmed that he was and handed the attendant his ticket.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

"No, thanks. But I would like to go ahead and give you my order for lunch. I'd prefer to eat in
here."

"No problem at all, sir. Do you need a menu?"

"No. I'll have the cheeseburger and fries, with a couple of Diet Cokes. And make that cheeseburger
well-done."

"You got it, sir. One well-done cheeseburger, fries, and two Diet Cokes. Now you know we won't
be serving until after we leave the station, don't you?"

"I know. That'll be fine, Napoleon."

The attendant smiled. "Napoleon is what my kid brother calls me. On the train I go by Barton."

"Barton, it is."

Barton backed out into the passageway and left, returning a moment later with two small bottles
of water and a cup of ice. "Here you go, sir, in case you get thirsty before we start rolling."

Elias thanked him, and the attendant left.

Within minutes, Elias fell back into the imaginary world his mind had constructed of the interior
of Aegis. He realized that he had never entered a situation where he knew so little going in. Buried in
his thoughts, he was unaware of the passage of time until he noticed that the train was beginning to pull
out of the station, providing the brief illusion, as he watched from his cabin window, that the station
platform was moving and he was immobile. The New Orleans cityscape quickly gave way to a dense,
green vista just as Barton arrived with his lunch.

The afternoon passed unnoticed as Elias continued his pondering of the unknown that awaited
him. At some point, he had retrieved from his suitcase the file given to him by Faulk. There were several
papers clipped together, revealing all the government knew about Kreitzmann. He placed them on top
and began to read. The facts and opinions assembled by the analysts painted a picture of a completely
amoral researcher who fully embraced the concept that the ends justified the means.

Elias set aside the stack detailing the scientist's offenses and re-reviewed his early history, focusing
on the academic career. Kreitzmann had obtained his Bachelor's and Master's at Stanford before
transferring to Johns Hopkins for his PhD. Top of his class in each arena, he had published several
papers in peer-reviewed journals prior to obtaining his doctorate in biomedical research. Apparently,
he had exhibited no signs of his later proclivities at either of these universities, garnering nothing but
positive, if not effusive, comments from his fellow post-doctoral students and professors. There was
even a paper written by the distinguished geneticist Doctor Logan Reed, which had appeared in the New
England Journal of Medicine, lauding Kreitzmann for his dissertation and predicting that his young
protégé would, one day, have a profound effect on the field.