Cheating Time (Longevity, #1)



  Cheating Time

  T. R. Graves

  2012, 2013, & 2014 NaNoWriMo Winner

  Copyright 2014 T. R. Graves

  https://thewarriorseries.blogspot.com/

  ISBN: 9781499755299

  This book is a work of fiction. Any mention of historical events, real people, or real locations is discussed fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's creativity, and any similarities to real events, locations, or persons are a matter of coincidence.

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  Table of Contents

  Books by T. R. Graves

  Coming 2014/2015/2016

  Prologue

  Chapter 1—Chemically Altered

  Chapter 2—Reunited

  Chapter 3—Separatists

  Chapter 4—Beautiful Watchers

  Chapter 5—Blame the Gunman Not the Gun

  Chapter 6—Revelations

  Chapter 7—Separations

  Chapter 8—A Silent Killer

  Chapter 9—Circle of Trust, Love, and Loyalty

  Chapter 10—Enamoured

  Chapter 11—In the Beginning…

  Chapter 12—From Dreams to Reality

  Chapter 13—Bed of Snakes

  Chapter 14—Shooting Monkeys in a Barrel

  Chapter 15—Genetic Anomaly

  Chapter 16—Fiancé

  Chapter 17—Reconnected

  Chapter 18—Longevity, Loyalty, and Devotion

  Chapter 19—Preparatory Academy

  Chapter 20—Sous-chefs

  Chapter 21—Muhammad Must Go to the Mountain

  Chapter 22—Vanilla Cake

  Chapter 23—My special little girl

  Chapter 24—Crushed Puppy Love

  Chapter 25—Dr. McGorgeous

  Chapter 26—Abominations

  Chapter 27—Ferocious Animals

  Chapter 28—Cat Fight

  Chapter 29—Red Sky at Night

  Chapter 30—Immunity

  Chapter 31—Contracts Made in Hell

  Chapter 32—Brought to Heel

  Chapter 33—President's Prisoners

  Chapter 34—Bunkers

  Author

  Books by T. R. Graves

  Warriors of the Cross (Warrior, #1)

  Guardians of the Cross (Warrior, #2)

  Enemies of the Cross (Warrior, #3)

  Grave Bound (Secrets, #1)

  Underground (Secrets, #2)

  Left (Still Standing, #1)

  Since Inception (Vanishing, #1)

  Coming 2015/2016

  Chasing the Dragon (Lost Innocence, #1)

  Dark Angels of the Cross (Warrior, #4)

  Deep Web (Agent Jen Lanes, #1)

  There, (Still Standing, #2)

  Deeper Than Hell (Secrets, #3)

  Here (Still Standing, #3)

  Deadly Touch (Vanishing, #2)

  Worth Dying For (Underwater, #1)

  Worth Living For (Underwater, #2)

  Everything about the scene before us: the respect my father had shown Jayden, the appreciation the Surrogate felt, the fact that we were merely minutes away from being separated—possibly forever—had Mom, Tawney, and me sniffling back the tears and gulping down lumps.

  Soon, everyone but Jayden was gathered around hugging each other desperately. When I glanced over and saw him standing stoically to the side, I reached out my hand, intertwined my fingers with his, and pulled him into our circle of trust, love, and loyalty. —Carles Anise Enoche "Carlie"

  PROLOGUE

  President John Henry Barone

  "Sir, I netted and retrieved the operative report for the MicroPharm First Generation," Isaiah Manniless, the special agent in charge of my protection, announced while dashing into the presidential office.

  "It was very clever of Dr. Enoche and Dr. Panzali to save it to TOR I and to immediately transfer it to TOR II. Under most circumstances, your most ingenious cyber forensics investigator can't get to information or find out who its creators are when TOR I is used. Moving the operative report from the advanced encryption software to its even more innovative scion, TOR II, makes it as if the information never existed and the originators never loaded it to the internet." Manniless chuckled before musing, "It really was quite smart of them."

  Smart indeed.

  Dr. Enoche's husband, Sam, had been my best friend since childhood. I knew his work when I saw it. He'd been begging me for years to invest money into creating TOR II so our government and its most sensitive military documents could be stored without fear that disingenuous hackers were studying the Aspect Nation and without worrying that the plans most critical to the nation's survival were being read by hackers who intended to alert our enemies and stage their own preemptive strikes.

  I'd known he was right. Manniless's admiration for what Sam had done with the OP report only confirmed my suspicions. Without a doubt, I'd like nothing more than to dive full force into a project like TOR II, investing in a more secure informational networking system. Unfortunately, the Aspect's governmental resources were taxed in ways they'd never before been burdened.

  As if he were reading my mind and channeling Sam, Maninless said, "You know, you really need to look into the TOR II. I'd risk Junior's life on its ability to hide data in ways no one'll ever find it, much less find out who put it out there. From military and national security perspectives, it could be useful."

  "It must be secure if you're betting your only son's life on it," I said, leveling my stare on the man who periodically brought Isaiah, Jr. to work with him just so he'd be able to say he was the first special agent in charge whose training began while still in diapers.

  "It is, and I would, sir," Manniless said proudly.

  "Well, here's the cold, hard facts. I want to do just that, but the Aspect Nation's finances are already stretched when it comes to protecting our borders from the goddamned Shadow Citizens who are doing their best to invade our country. They're a threat to us, one I can't ignore.

  "Not very many people know the political environment in the Shadow Nation has gotten so bad that its citizens are cannibalizing each other for no reason other than they're that desperate for food. Based on the footage I've gotten, they've turned into a nation of The Walking Dead. If they ever tear down the defenses at our border, we'll be invaded and overrun by their special brand of militia. There won't be anything worth saving."

  "Damn! I didn't know it had gotten so bad for them," Manniless exclaimed.

  "It has. Then there's the Aspect Nation's obligation to its own citizens' basic necessities, which of course I'm not opposed to. What I am opposed to is all the money we spend on healthcare.

  "When I look at the monthly reports geared toward helping me gauge the condition of our nation and its finances, I'm appalled at how much we spend on our sick and elderly.

  "Believe it or not, we spend almost as much on healthcare as we spend on our safety and security."

  Manniless was interested and intrigued. "How could that be, sir? Something about those figures just doesn't seem right."

  "Oh, they're right… and they're the very reason I'm investing in MicroPharms. I'm confident those devices will save our nation, and I'll be able to right the ship… get back to basics like spending money on TOR II… or even TOR III. That's what we should be devoting our time, energy, and funds toward. Instead, I've got to pay for a nation of aging, ailing citizens that don't believe they have an obligation when it comes to minimizing the cost of healthcare.

  "They have more children than they should. They don't take care of themselves. They refuse elective abortions in situations where they know the babies are going to be born with significant defect
s, ones that will cost the government millions before the end of that baby's life, even if the baby's life ends early."

  "How will MicroPharms help all of those problems?" Manniless, earnestly curious, asked.

  "If the First Generation's procedure is successful, I'm going to sign into law a mandate that all babies born have them implanted. I don't look for the law to bring too much political backlash.

  "After watching Dr. Selma Enoche for the last nine months and following every heartbeat of the Aspect Nation's firstborn, practically every new mother in the nation wants a MicroPharm implanted into their child's heart. For no reason other than they want to be just like Selma, and they want their baby to be just like her baby.

  "They want it badly enough to sacrifice their newborns' lives because they're convinced it's going to open doors and give their little ones a leg up when it comes to riches and fame." With an arrogant smile that revealed the manipulation that I, President John Barone, was capable of, I shrugged and feigned innocence when I said, "Of course, it doesn't hurt that I let that little rumor get leaked."

  "Now it seems getting the MicroPharm implanted is the trendy thing to do… as if being like Selma, everyone's sweetheart, is the most important thing every newborn's mother can do for her child." I smiled again as I, for the millionth time, walked through the plans I'd made. "I'm going to use that to my advantage. We'll have these devices implanted into as many citizens' hearts as we can get to agree to it. Age won't matter. They'll be completely free, and there'll be tax credits given to those who comply.

  "Once a majority of the citizens have them, we'll use the MicroPharm to improve the nation's healthcare and, by default, the health statistics. We'll identify people who have genetic anomalies and slowly but surely weed them from our nation's landscape. I'll also use the implant to control the population. People will no longer have more than one child, and that one precious child will only be born when we know there's an inevitable death of another of our citizens. Not before."

  As if suddenly not believing what I was saying, Manniless said, "And it can predict the future? Have you been working too many hours, sir?"

  I laughed. "I have been working too many hours, but I'm not crazy. The MicroPharm holds in it the results of each baby's longevity assessment, a genetic test that tells us exactly what day they'll die decades before there's even the first clue. Ten months before that death occurs, one lucky lottery-winning family will have three months to conceive. If they do, great. If not, their birth control will be reinitiated via the MicroPharm, and we'll give the next couple a chance to become parents."

  Manniless sat in front of me, holding the operative report as if it held the mysteries of the universe. Maybe it does. Finally, he laid it out on my desk and leaned back.

  "How have I not heard any of this before now? I'm your special agent in charge. Theoretically, I should know everything you know."

  I shrugged. "A man has to have his mysteries, Isaiah. Besides, I never thought Selma would go through with all of this. I thought she'd back out at the last minute, leaving millions of women following her lead and refusing to have the implant inserted. Now that I have proof that she's allowed her baby to go through the procedure, I'll unofficially release the report using TOR II, the very information security onion that you claim makes it impossible for the document's originators to be tracked.

  "Once that report is public knowledge, we won't be able to keep these MicroPharms stocked or operating room space available there will be so many people demanding they be insterted into their children's hearts. It'll be like taking candy from a baby."

  "Surely there are others who know what you're planning. You won't be able to do this on your own," Isaiah suggested.

  "Of course there are. I have scientists all over the nation who are prepared to sell their soul to the devil and help me program these implants for population control and healthcare maintenance. There will be a fine line I'll be made to walk along with the Enoches and the Panzalis. I need their ideas. Their ability to see the world in ways others can't isn't something I can lose."

  I couldn't help but feel a little smug about all I'd been able to accomplish. Having a MicroPharm implanted in any human being was something I'd thought would never come to fruition. It's idealistic inventor, Selma Enoche, and her arrogant grandfather, Peter Panzali, worried a little too much about the ethics associated with the device and the technology it offered. They worried—rightfully so—there would be people who'd use it to decide who lived, who died, who was worth having the nation's limited healthcare dollars used on.

  When Selma agreed to implant it in the first person's heart, it never occured to me she planned to implant it into the heart of her very own baby, one she'd wanted for years. As the scientist who'd invented the device, she decided it was her responsibility to prove to the world just how safe it was. The only way to do that was to let them see she was willing to offer up her first and only child for the life-threatening procedure, the nation's healthcare research project, and the ability to change the face of preventative healthcare and ultimately the nation's health.

  It had taken a lot of innuendos on my part, insinuations that her device would never really work as designed, and suggestions that since the beginning of time researchers had used themselves and their families as guinea pigs. I knew her—Sam and Peter—well enough to know that being too direct would be a problem. The foundation of my master plan had to be laid surreptitiously. The fact that she'd followed through so beautifully had given me insight on how best to deal with Selma in the future.

  The part I never could have expected was the viral public frenzy that occured within seconds of Selma's press conference where she announced her plans. Since that day, the paparazzi had followed Selma's every move. Feeding the public's fervor, Selma released to the public every hologram of the baby made while in utero.

  The image where the fetus contentedly sucked her thumb while floating dreamily within Selma's womb became the logo for the MicroPharm and within weeks was plastered on every magazine, news cover, newspaper, and media outlet throughout the nation. Just that quick, Selma's unborn baby replaced the Gerber baby on baby foods and every other baby on every other product.

  More important was the way the MicroPharm became synonymous with products that could be trusted, products that were safe even for the smallest and most innocent.

  "Did you read the report?" I asked, looking down at the paper Isaiah had laid out before me.

  He shrugged. "I tried. It's a foreign language to me. Give me computer code and I can do anything you need me to do. Give me something like that and I'm lost. What about you? Does any of it mean anything to you?"

  I stared down at the report and began reading the medical jargon. There were words I could pick out and comprehend. There were others that left me grasping for their meaning. After several passes, I decided when taken in as a whole, I could get the gist of what had happened in the operating room.

  Basically, it said the MicroPharm had been inserted into the septum of the heart, which was where it would reside for Carles Anise Enoche's entire life. From the device, there was a tube that connected it to a portacatheter, one that would be used to inject the microparticle substances necessary for the MicroPharm to compound the drugs that baby would need to prevent illness or treat diseases.

  Interesting was the fact that the newborn underwent a corneal lens implant in addition to the MicroPharm. That's not something that was ever shared with the public. Or me. I couldn't help but wonder what type of advantages it would give her over her peers. What secret project had Selma been working on? I made a mental note to find out what Selma and her great-grandfather were up to and how I could use it myself.

  Suddenly, it occured to me the report was missing a critical piece of information: the longevity assessment.

  The goddamned longevity assessment wasn't included.

  "Isaiah, was there another page?" I asked, jumping to my feet and slapping both of my hands on the desk. />
  Special Agent Manniless's smile faded. "No, sir. This was all there was."

  I picked up the report and read through it one more time.

  "That bitch!" I glared at Manniless with a desperation I rarely showed. "Can you hack into the longevity database and tell me what the natural date of this baby's death will be?"

  Manniless jumped up as fast as I had and came around to my side of the desk.

  "May I, sir?" he asked, nodding his forehead toward my CPU?

  I stepped to the side and watched while he began typing on the virtual keyboard, as the hologram glimmered to life above it, as cryptic messages flashed before me, causing shadows to bounce off every surface in my office.

  I wasn't a cyber-junkie like Isaiah, but I knew what it meant when Access Denied flashed before my eyes for the fifth time. Isaiah cursed under his breath while he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. An hour later, he still hadn't been able to gain admission to the database that would tell us how long this baby would live. Somehow I knew the date of her death was significant. Special.

  The missing information and Selma's and Sam's heroic efforts at hiding it told me this baby was the one I needed. The one who would change things in ways only I could envision.

  I'm willing to bet everything I own that this baby isn't just the nation's Firstborn, but that she's the special girl I've been searching for.