The Fusion Cage

XXX

Stanley Meyer sat in silence as he watched the dawn break across distant hills, the sky above a wonderful eggshell blue and a light mist hovering in the air across the nearby forests. It looked so much like the hills near Clearwater.

So much had changed, in so little time, that he felt as though he were in some kind of dream, that he would wake up eventually in his own bed with his wife beside him, Amber asleep in her room, and their lives back to normal. He realized, with some melancholy, that he almost wished it were true and that he had never gotten himself into this mess.

The hotel in which he had been forced to spend the night was far more luxurious than anything he had ever believed possible. From the cold, hard, dark confines of a military helicopter he had been transferred into a luxury limousine and from there to the hotel. The bathroom had marble floors and a voice activated pad on the wall allowed him to open the curtains, turn on the lights, alter the air conditioning and do pretty much anything he wanted without ever having to lift a finger. On one wall was mounted a television larger than the dining table in his home, the screen concave to prevent any reflections from marring the perfect image it produced.

Stanley knew that there were soldiers outside his door, dressed in smart suits and with their weapons concealed. His door was locked from the outside and the entire top floor of the hotel booked out to conceal him from observation. Stanley reckoned that the proprietors of the hotel probably assumed that a rock star was staying incognito upstairs, or perhaps a movie idol or something, not a retired scientist considered a lunatic by most of his peers.

Stanley had no idea whether Amber, Lopez and Ethan were still alive, but he did know that Jesse had been shot during their attempted escape. He had heard more gunfire afterward, and in the carnage that ensued he felt certain that there had been no survivors in Jesse’s commune. The sight of people being shot and killed had affected him deeply, and sleep had not come to him despite the huge size and great comfort of the king — size bed that dominated his room. People were dying, dying because of what he had achieved and because of what so many other people wanted to see destroyed.

A great pall of depression settled on Stanley’s shoulders as he watched the sunrise through the broad windows, all of which had been secured and locked shut and were made from a form of glass that could not be broken. Had he not already been informed in great depth of the security of his room, he might have been tempted to hurl himself through them and off the fifth floor balcony to his death below. He had chosen a course of action that he knew had been dangerous, but he had believed the danger to be only to himself. Never once had he considered the possibility that the brutality of those who were pursuing him would extend to innocent civilians, to people who had never heard of Stanley Meyer or Seavers Incorporated or free energy devices. His grief intensified as he reflected upon the nature of the people who had died, people who had been seeking a way to live peacefully outside of the National Grid, the kind of people that Stanley Meyer had hoped to champion with the fusion cage. Now, the first people to encounter him and his device, or the promise of it, were dead, their children with them.

Tears welled into his eyes, but the rage he had once felt for the machine that seemed determined to thwart him at all costs would not come. He knew that he had pushed too far, too soon, that he had challenged the powers that be and found their nature to be far more horrific than anything he could have imagined. Finally, after all this time, he realised something that he had not before considered: that perhaps many scientists refused to become involved in the free energy game not because they felt that it would not work, but because they feared the consequences of even attempting to do so. More than one inventor had died under mysterious circumstances after proclaiming to have discovered some form or other of extreme efficiency or free energy.

Stanley turned wearily to the television and switched it on. The screen glowed into life in an instant, an image of a news anchor from a local state television station appearing larger — than — life and clearer too, almost unrealistically high definition as though he were looking through a window to where the newsreader sat dictating her newsfeed directly to him. He had already watched the reports a dozen times, but once again found himself unable to tear his view from them.

‘ … reports are coming in once again from the fire service fighting the blaze near Nathalie, a fire which appears to have been started deliberately. Casualties are reported in the dozens, along with the destruction of a small commune belonging to one Jesse McVey, an employee of a private firm in Lynchburg who owned the compound and had built an off — grid community there over the last ten years … ’

An image of Jesse appeared on the screen, all youth and vigour and bright smiles, photographed in front of the home he had built in the woods many years previously. Stanley’s tears welled again as the news reporter continued.

‘ … it is believed that an explosion of a gas canister or possibly a diesel generator started the blaze, which then consume the entire community. On — site explosive experts are already warning of the dangers of using such generators in wilderness conditions, citing dry conditions and the danger of natural sparks as well as the threat of arson. The blast at the site was heard as far away as Harrisburg, and although firefighters now have the forest fire under control they are maintaining a perimeter around the site to prevent contamination in order for forensics experts to search the scene. The local police department say they are now treating the event as a multiple homicide and are seeking witnesses. All victims found at the scene are confirmed to have died from asphyxiation or burning during the fire.’

The image on the screen switched to a series of mug — shots, each showing a face that Stanley recognized.

‘Police are asking local residents to be on the look — out for these individuals, who were seen in the area at the time and are believed able to help police with their enquiries. All of them are wanted for questioning in connection with the events of last night and prior police investigations in several states. If you see them, do not attempt to approach them but instead call nine — one — one immediately.’

The faces of Ethan Warner, Nicola Lopez, Amber Ryan and Stanley Meyer stared out of the screen at him, all of the shots carefully picked to show them at their most glum: Warner’s was clearly a police mug — shot taken years before, Lopez’s a grainy image from CCTV somewhere, Amber’s gothic visage staring sullenly from a school photo, and Stanley’s taken from an identity badge he’d worn for years at the National Ignition Facility in California.

Stanley slumped into his seat as he switched the television off, and he sat for a long time watching the sunrise over the peaceful rolling valleys until he heard a key turning in the lock of his door. Stanley did not turn to look as he heard somebody walk into the room, the door closing behind them as they moved. A long silence followed before he heard a voice speak to him.

‘Stanley,’ it said softly, ‘It’s Huck.’

Stanley could not bring himself to turn his head, to look upon the man who had murdered so many people already. He simply continued stare out of the window.

Huck Seavers pulled up a chair from nearby and sat to Stanley’s right, just in view out of the corner of his eye. Seavers linked his fingers together as he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at Stanley from beneath his Stetson.

‘I know how you must feel right now,’ he said softly. ‘I would feel the same too, if all of this had happened to me. Believe me when I say that this is not what I wanted, that I would never have done this to you or to those people.’

Stanley did not move, stared out of the windows of the hotel room as he thought of Amber, of his wife and all that they had been forced to endure since this whole thing had begun. For the first time ever Stanley hated what he had become, hated what he had fought for and endured and forced upon others. He hated the thought of his fusion cage, hated the naivety with which he had believed that somehow, human compassion and cooperation would overcome greed and herald a new dawn of humanity, of a people free from crippling energy bills, pollution, climate change and the machinations of corporations hell — bent on profits, fuelled by greed, fearing nothing.

‘There are forces at work here, Stanley,’ Huck went on, ‘forces that I would not have believed existed six months ago. They control everything, everything we think that is democratic. They scheme and conspire, and all of it in order to build and consolidate power over every human being, over every living thing, on this planet.’

Stanley remained silent.

‘I have tried to resist them, tried to limit the danger that they have put people in, including me, Stanley, but there’s just no stopping them. I talked to your daughter, Amber, and tried to make her understand but she wouldn’t believe me. Then, they tracked you out of Saudi Arabia and to France, sent their own people in to talk to a guy who works there, Hans somebody or other.’

Stanley’s chin lifted slightly, and with a chilling premonition he realized how Huck’s people had found them despite their being located so deep in Virginia.

‘They threatened him,’ Huck said, ‘with things that I don’t even want to think about. I have children too, a wife, a family and a future. They’ve made it clear that if I don’t do what they want I’ll lose them all. They made the same threat at Cadarache in France, and then they told me that you were coming back to America. I had to stop you, Stanley, had to intervene in Clearwater, to silence the townsfolk. I didn’t have a choice but to do what they wanted. If I hadn’t done what needed to be done, they would have killed my wife and my children and taken away everything that I … ’

‘Shut up.’

The words spilled from Stanley’s mouth like poison. He heard his own rage, mixed with regret and frustration and hopelessness.

‘Where is Amber?’ he demanded.

‘She wasn’t found,’ Huck said, quick to inform Stanley that her body had not been recovered. ‘I think that she escaped because only the inhabitants of the commune have been identified from their … ’

Seavers broke off, apparently stunned by what had happened at Nathalie. Stanley sucked in air that filled his lungs but somehow failed to replenish him.

‘I’ll take the money,’ Stanley said.

Huck Seavers looked up at him. ‘What?’

Stanley did not look at the man, keeping his eyes focused on the distant hills.

‘Enough people have died,’ he uttered, barely able to conceive of the terrible course of action he had put into motion. ‘I don’t want anybody else’s deaths on my hands for this, for the device that I built. I don’t want it any more. I don’t want any part of it anymore.’

Huck remained still, his eyes searching Stanley’s face for some sign of deception.

‘I don’t know if they can be trusted,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t know if they’ll honour a promise to leave us be, or if they’ll make any of this simply go away.’

For the first time Stanley began to realize that Seavers himself might actually be what Amber had suggested he was: a pawn, like Stanley, in a dangerous game much bigger than either of them.

‘You got yourself in with them,’ he growled, showing no sign of sympathy. ‘It’s on your hands, all of this. You killed those people, all of them.’

Huck’s head hung low.

‘I needed help to defeat the legal actions piling up against my company,’ Huck said. ‘They had leverage, power, they said they could make the cases go away and they did. But you have to believe me, Stanley — I had no idea that they would do anything like this. None at all. I don’t even know who they are. I tried to find out at Bilderberg, and that’s when they made the threats against my family.’ Huck looked up again at Stanley. ‘Is your wife okay?’

Stanley felt no warmth in Huck Seaver’s concern. ‘A bit late, Seavers, to be worrying about her.’

Seavers bit his lip. ‘Someone once told me that it’s never too late to try to put things right.’

Stanley scowled and finally looked Seavers in the eye.

‘It’s too late for black — hearted cowards like you,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll take the money. One hundred million, all of it sent to accounts I’ve set up.’

Huck’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve already set up accounts?’

‘I did it the moment I realized the fusion cage worked,’ Stanley snapped. ‘I’m not an idiot. I wanted to give the device away, but if it couldn’t be done then I wanted to ensure that my family profited from what I’d achieved. It’s called putting others first, Seavers. You should try it one day.’

‘My family come first,’ Huck replied coldly.

‘No negotiations, no discussions,’ Stanley said, ignoring Huck’s last. ‘In return, I’ll cease all work on the fusion cage and I will sign anything to show that I will never again distribute any paperwork, prototypes or other reference material pertaining to the device. If Amber and my wife are harmed in any way, ever, I swear I’ll release everything regardless of what happens to me, understood?’

Huck Seavers nodded slowly.

‘I’ll pass that along. I hope that it will bring these unfortunate events to a close, that we will never have to deal with anything like this again and … ’

‘It will never stop,’ Stanley cut him off. ‘It will never end, because somebody else will discover what I did. Others will know, will come to understand, and one way or another they’ll bring your damned corporations to their knees. I just hope I’m alive to see it, so I can drink champagne and piss on the ashes of your company, Seavers.’

Huck sat for a moment longer, and then he got up and walked away from Stanley and let him watch the sunrise once more in peace.