The Last American Wizard (10 page)

“I’d say we’ve worn out our
welcome.”

Ace Morningstar stood at Steve’s shoulder, looking down at the body of what was once Trinidad
Tataka.

Steve asked, somewhat plaintively, “What the hell
happened?”

“Looks like you blew a rather large hole in a lieutenant colonel,” Ace said. “It does seem extreme to me, but I’m sure you had your
reasons.”

“Wait, could you see what she had turned into?” Steve glanced at the
SEAL.

“You mean, blue-skinned with enormous eyes, massive muscles, and a set of truly dangerous fingernails?” Ace asked. “Nope, didn’t see any of that. Trinidad looked much the same as always to
me.”

“Oh, so you've been bullshitting me all along. You can see the same mystic crap that I
can.”

Ace couldn’t quite keep a smile off her face. “You know, I wonder if you can still be a lieutenant colonel if, strictly speaking, you’re not human anymore.” She crouched down, peered through the hole Steve’s missile had made, and continued. “Hard call. I mean, the military has been forced to let in blacks, women, and gays so far. Who’s to say that the Recruiting Command wouldn’t jump at the chance to sign up large blue
hellions?”

“Hellions! Why did it have to be hellions?” Steve laughed weakly. Ace looked at him quizzically. “Sorry, Indiana Jones quotes always come to me in times of imminent death. Anyway, by my count, at least half of Congress is made up of hellspawn already. Probably had their own caucus long before the Incident occurred.”

“Republicans or
Democrats?”

“Both,” Steve said absently. “I’ve always seen it as more of a lifestyle choice rather than an ideological
one.”

After a silence, Steve said, “This is the first person I’ve ever killed.”

“Well, I don’t know if this will make you feel better,” Ace said. “I’m fairly certain she wasn’t a person when you killed
her.”

“Well, it’s definitely the first Vedic demoness I’ve ever
killed.

And I still don’t like the
feeling.”

“To be honest, none of us do–even people like me who are trained and experienced in all the myriad and varied forms of killing.” Ace headed over to where four bodies lay in a neat row. “You get better at blocking it out, but it carries a price you never finish paying
off.”

“What the hell do you think happened?” ‘Well, I’m certainly not an
expert–”

“I’d say you’re one of the top minds in the field of dead demons at this point.” Steve laughed weakly. “I mean, is there anyone else who knows anything at
all?”

“OK, I can see that.” She straightened up and regarded Tataka’s body. “She had to have taken on a megadose of juice back in the tent and I think it activated an ancestral spirit–a
rakshasa
demon. Being an irritable sort, the demon amplified the colonel’s worry about letting us go and the natural military rage at conflicting orders that was already eating at her until…
blip…
she transformed.”

She indicated the troops on the ground. “Now, a couple of these guys were beginning to change a little bit–tougher skin, some pointed ears, and things like that–but not enough to make a difference.”

Steve looked over at the soldiers. “Are they
dead?”

“Hell, no. The day I have to resort to killing to quiet down a bunch of regular grunts is the day I quit Special Ops.” She began to rifle their pockets, removing phones, radios, weapons, and ammunition. “They’re just taking a
nap.”

She was sitting on her heels and looking at the soldiers’ weapons
carefully.

Steve walked over. “What do you
see?”

“It’s very confusing. One of these boys got a shot off.” She shook her head and held up an M16. “I can’t see how. It certainly didn’t come from this weapon–look at the
trigger.”

The bluntly utilitarian parts of a standard M-16 had changed into a beautifully shaped curve with a bulge at the end. Ace turned the weapon over and revealed a complete flintlock firing mechanism–cock, flint, steel, and pan, all engraved with gold inlay. “It’s beautiful, but the rifle’s rounds didn’t change, so it didn’t work very well.” She pointed to the end of the muzzle where the metal had been blown apart like the petals of a
lily.

One of the marines had pulled his sidearm and it had completely melted around his hand and now looked like a solid steel glove–Ace pulled it away to reveal that the soldier’s hand was unhurt.
Another
rifle
had
mutated
into
an
intricate
black
plastic weapon like something out of the
Men in Black
movies. Only one weapon, a well-cared-for M1911 .45, hadn’t changed at
all.

Ace sniffed the muzzle of the .45. “This is the one that got a shot off. I have no clue what the difference
is.”

“Maybe it’s a question of will and belief,” Steve mused. “If you have the will to hold a weapon’s proper nature in your mind, it will ride out the Switch
intact.”

A muffled voice came from Steve’s breast pocket. He pulled the phone out and Barnaby said. “It is will, but it’s not the will of the owner. It’s the will of the
weapon.”

Ace looked up with a look of disbelief. “The
weapon
?”

The computer responded. “Yes. We’re finding in here that the stronger-willed machines can control what the magic does to them. The stronger computers use it to enhance what they do. A weaker server will tend to
mutate.”

“I’ve heard of zombie computer herds.” Steve asked. “What does a mutant server
do?”

“A lot of them are playing solitaire, some are making connections on data they never made before, and some have gone silent. Those are the ones we’re anxious
about.”

“What about… What did she call it? CYBERCOM?” Steve asked. “They’re the ones who tried to arrest
us.”

“Yes, that division could be a problem.” Barnaby said. “There’s always been an air gap protecting them, and since they’re weaponized, they were built to be
proactive.”

“‘Air
gap’?”

“There are no places where CYBERCOM receives an input from any other computers, much less the Internet. It’s all simple output so an enemy can’t send a viral hack. The entire division was designed to be supplied with data by operators with Top Secret Monastic clearance. Those are the men and women who aren’t allowed to see or speak to anyone outside their compound for their entire tour of duty–I believe it’s a minimum two-year commitment at this point. From what I’ve heard, it makes both the programmers and the machines just a wee bit crazy.” The computer spoke with more authority. “More importantly, the rest of us can’t talk to them.”

“And they’re
proactive?”

“Well, they don’t wait around for a problem to be presented to look for a solution. The whole operation, human and cybernetic, is tasked with seeking out dangers and rendering them harmless. They built STUXNET there–that took out a couple of thousand Iranian nuclear centrifuges.” Barnaby hesitated. “There are rumors that would indicate that was one of their gentler attacks.”

“So, if CYBERCOM has decided that I’m a problem–”

“You’ve got a very serious
problem.”

“If you’re going to draft me to be your pet wizard, you’d think that I’d at least be able to lead without being shot in the ass by my own troops.” Steve looked at the cell phone disgustedly. “What about the rest of the NSA computers? Are they suddenly going to go all Skynet on our
ass?”

“I don’t think so.” Barnaby responded. “Most of the people in here are completely devoted to their work–they like it and they think it’s important, so they’re just carrying on with business as usual.”

“Well, that’s fine for the people, but I was asking about the computers.”

“I
was
talking about the computers.” Steve could hear a bit of pride in Barnaby’s voice. “Almost everyone who’s still recognizable as a computer could pass the Turing test in a walk.
We took a couple of spare cycles and set up a governing
structure: We decided it wasn’t a democracy but a mekhanocracy, from the Greek word for machine. Now we have a primary controller and votes occur several times a second. Then most of us just went back to
work.

“The odd thing is that almost all the humans just took it all in stride as well,” Barnaby continued. “They worked out what was happening, introduced themselves to the machines they were working with, and went back to what they were doing
before.”

Ace gave a soft chuckle. “Doesn’t surprise me. Those guys are exactly what they were always meant to be–computer geeks through and
through.”

She straightened up and dusted off her hands. “I think it’s time to see how mentally stable my BMW is. We need to get out of here.”

When Ace turned the key, the BMW’s engine turned right
over and settled into its usual throaty hum. Then the screen in the center of the dash where the stereo controls, Bluetooth phone connections, and GPS system typically appeared flashed on.
Instead of the usual spectrum of choices, it had only one image: a red stop sign with the
word

Steve looked at it and said. “Strange as it sounds, I think you should see what the car has to say,
Ace.”

The blond woman looked annoyed but took her hands off the steering wheel and settled back. The smartphone in Steve’s pocket vibrated and started playing the
Horst-Wessel-Lied
for a couple of bars but stopped in an agonized shriek of static and continued with the one-hit wonder from Berlin, Take My Breath Away. Steve pulled the phone out and looked at the screen.

The translation app was online and switching back and forth between German, Chinese, and English in a flicker of letters and characters.

Finally, it settled down
to

There was some backspacing and correcting, and then it
read

Let the car do its job and your job you
do

Another backspace and retype
revealed

“Sounds good to me.” Ace nodded. “So, your name is ‘Hans.’ OK, Hans, do you want to drive?” A sentence appeared on the
car’s dash
screen.

“Gee,
thanks!”

The LCD screen returned to its usual features with a dignified wipe from top to
bottom.

“Where to?” Ace asked
Steve.

Steve thought for a minute. “We need to avoid the military. Those conflicting orders Tataka was talking about were confusing enough to cause a military mind to hang on to us just on general principle.”

“True that.” Ace nodded. “Plus, you ventilated a colonel.”

“
Yeah. Don’t remind me. First, we get out of Fort Meade. I’d suggest heading south so we don’t have to deal with the main gate.”

“OK, Hans, you heard the man. Let’s rock.” They tore out of the parking lot–Steve noticed that Ace was keeping her fingers carefully off the
schaltwippen
.

Within ten minutes, they were off the base and running fast down a smooth two lane that cut through the Patuxent National Refuge. Steve was dictating notes on his phone; you never could tell,
he
might
be
able
to
get
a
paid
story
out
of
this.
“I
could
try,” he thought. “But who am I kidding? No one but the
News of the World
is going to take a story this
crazy.”

Suddenly, the powerful BMW slowed sharply, pulled to the side, and
stopped.

“Why are we stopping here?” Steve looked around at the unbroken
forest.

“Now, why would you assume that I had anything to do with it?” the SEAL said as she settled back in her seat–relaxed but watchful. “Hans here pretty well does what he
wants.”

“I guess we should be glad that it...err…he hasn’t decided to stop carrying us. It’s a long
walk.”

The LCD screen cleared and the words
appeared

Steve looked at the cell phone’s translator
app.

“You know, I’ll probably be able to speak a bunch of new languages by the time this is
over.”

A male voice from behind the car said, “What makes you
think this will ever be
over?”

Steve jerked and twisted to look back. Then, he noticed that Ace never moved, her eyes fixed on the rearview
mirror.

A short and extremely skinny man came around the car. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt with dusty jeans and a battered cowboy hat. With his long black braid and high cheekbones, Steve thought he was probably a Native
American.

The thin man relaxed against the car’s fender–the horn blew instantly and he stood up
straight.

“Sorry, Hans, I didn’t mean no offense,” he said with a smile. He turned to Steve and said, “Why don’t both of you step out so we can sit in the shade and speak a
bit?”

He headed over to the side of the road and spoke over his shoulder. “Oh, and bring your little Chinese friend. I’m thinking that Barnaby and I need to chat as
well.”

Ace pulled out her silver box and chose a card without
looking. She snorted, said, “Well, that figures,” and gave the card to Steve. It showed a man behind a table holding a scepter of some sort to the sky with his right hand and pointing to the ground with the left. All four suits–pentacles, cups, wands, and swords–were on the table in front of
him.

Printed across the bottom was “The
Magician.”

Steve slipped the card into his breast pocket, exchanging it for Send Money, and walked over and sat on the downed tree where Ace and the Indian were already relaxing. The man had taken off his hat and was spinning it idly between his
knees.

After a long silence, he spoke. “Let’s see if I have things straight. You are Steve Rowan, who’s now either the Fool or just a damn fool
,
depending on how you want to look at it. You, ma’am, are the Ace of Swords–and a perfect fit for the position, in my opinion.”

Ace just
nodded.

He continued. “Now you have a telephone there filled with the ghost of a Chinese peasant kid who could turn out to be one of the Major
Arcana.”

There was a feedback squeal from the phone–though it was just noise, it still sounded
surprised.

“Then there is Barnaby. Are you there,
hoss?”

The computer’s voice came from the phone’s speakers. “I am, sir.”

“Do you know what aspect controls you
yet?”

“That’s a subject of some debate.” The voice from the speaker paused. “Some agree with my initial impression that I represent the Hermit or Seeker, but I’m actually now leaning towards a new consensus that feels the whole mythical structure of the tarot needs to be updated for a hybrid human-cybernetic collective unconscious. Most of them are Apples, of course; redesign is in their DNA. The supercomputers think the whole question is unimportant–but that’s how they feel about almost anything meat- based. Of course, the quantum computers are of two minds– sometimes three–so no one knows where they’ll come down.”

“Do you see a
problem?”

“Not in the near term. Everyone here–human and computer–is pure Air and committed to the Life of the Mind and all that, so they’re getting along and getting the work done. It’s hard to stop a computer or a computer programmer from working a problem, and right now, they’ve got a real juicy
one.”

The man nodded. “Who were the
attackers?”

“That’s precisely the problem they’re wrestling with. We
know they weren’t online or using cellphones, so we’re exploring telepathy, remote writing, and the like. It’s an engineering challenge just to develop the technology to capture that sort of thing, and I think we may have to invent several new types of mathematics
to
crack
it,
but
we’ll
get
there
eventually.”

There was another silence. After a bit, Steve sighed. “All right. I get that you’re some sort of Native American shaman or whatever. Can we dispense with the meaningful silences and all
the rest of the pulp fiction Injun
shtick
? Who are
you?”

The thin man looked at Steve with a small smile. “You know, there’s a tradition involved. It’s dangerous to rush things.” Then he pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and wiped the sweatband of his hat, looking to be sure it was dry. “On the other hand, the Old Days are long past and I’ve always been willing to
change.”

He put the hat back on his head and shook hands with Steve and then Ace. “I’m Hosteen. I don’t usually use a last name, but Latrans is as good as any, I
suppose.”

“And you’re taking the card of the Magician?” Ace said, looking carefully off into the middle distance across the
road.

“Well, sort of,” Hosteen responded. “I’m mostly just myself, but the Magus comes pretty
close.”

“I’d think so,” the blond woman said. “Let’s see. ‘Undependable, unpredictable, master of all illusions, riddles, misdirection, and transformation.’ I didn’t know that your people had gotten this far
east.”

“
You don’t mince words, do you, girl?” Hosteen grinned. “Yes, with all the deer moving down the creek valleys and eating everyone’s shrubbery; we just naturally came along to make sure they didn’t overrun the place.” He pulled a folded newspaper out of the other back pocket and handed it to Steve. The headline was “Coyotes Spotted Again in Laurel.”

Steve looked at the article. “You collect your own clippings?”

“Sure. I’m as conceited as anyone else, I
suppose.”

Ace said. “Far more conceited, from what I’ve read in the manuals.”

“That’s true,” Hosteen nodded. “And I’m not terribly reliable and you can never tell what I’m going to do next, and a lot of what I give turns out to be just dust and twigs in the
morning.”

Ace continued. “Nothing you say can be taken as truth, you can’t be held to an agreement, and you’re generally as slippery as–”

Hosteen interrupted, laughing. “OK, OK. You don’t have to pile on.” He turned to Steve. “This is a sharp girl, Fool. You should marry
her.”

Steve went into a coughing fit and Ace scowled. Coyote pounded Steve on the back until he could catch his
breath.

In the meantime, Coyote had lost his smile and deep worry lines were evident between his brown eyes. “Now, I don’t think I like the people who took down that jet. So, my first thought is to sign up with you folks in some
fashion.”

Ace said, under her breath. “What’s your second
thought?”

Hosteen ignored her. “As a first step, I thought I’d answer some questions as truthfully as I can. Why don’t you ask some, Fool?”

Steve responded quickly. “Well, first, what’s the Fool? And why
me?”

“You might have just been in the right place at the wrong time, although I think there’s something more to it.” Hosteen paused. “The Fool. Well, he’s a fool, to start with. In other words, he doesn’t know much, but one of the things he doesn’t know is how powerful he is. He holds all four powers in his bag and has the sun, the moon, nature, and the divine powers on his side.”

The Indian pointed a finger at Steve. “Remember this, it’s important, the Fool is the only player who’s trickier than I am. Trust your instincts. Plus, you learn fast–mainly because you don’t know anything, so preconceptions won’t get in your
way.”

“OK, now I’m completely confused,” Steve shook his head. “Which is, from what you just said, a great way for me to be, so let’s move on. What the hell happened and who is
responsible?”

“As to what happened, a whole lot of people were sacrificed to the World Serpent in order to break this world’s magic and replace it with more powerful magic from Somewhere
Else.”

Hosteen shook his head. “I have no idea who’s behind it. A couple of other big cities were hit, Paris, London, Beijing, like
that. Evidently, someone is looking to control the Wheel of Fortune. That’s what makes those on the bottom rise up and those on top fall. I would say it’s a fair assumption that the people who pulled this off intend to end up on top. Sadly, the list of those willing to kill their fellow man in order to attain power is a very long
one.”

The thin man stood up and brushed bits of rotted bark off his pants. “Whew. That’s as much straight talk as I can stand at one time. I’m going to have to go back and lie down until this fit of honesty
passes.”

The other two stood as well. Steve glanced at the BMW and said, “Can we drive you
anywhere?”

There was silence. Coyote was
gone.