New book:
Ghosts of Camelot 1963
A Novella
by: Horus Michael
Copyright ©® 2024 Horus Michael, All rights reserved.
(Fiction, 6x9).
From his State-Assisted suicide in 1963, POTUS-35 is reborn some 9 years later as anticipated in the Dixon Prophecy of 1962, as a writer. He establishes an Order of Psychic Knights and defends the USA from a power-hungry new POTUS with an equally power-obsessed Billionaire assistant. In this new age of Artificial Intelligence and Human-like Bots, what will happen to POTUS-35?
Excerpt:
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Chapter 5: Enter the Billionaire
There was this confidant of POTUS 47. He was a very wealthy, influential peon of the President, formerly a computer hacker who became rich off the Stock Market and selling Crypto-currency. His intelligence was wacko, but determined. He became involved with the Government Administration in the early days of the Presidency, applying to Departments which he later closed and fired all of their employees. He treated the American Peoples’ Government like a hostile takeover of a rogue business. The Treasury Department was raided by his unethical organization, named after the royal houses of Venice and a joke Crypto-currency. When the Billionaire, Valen Rusk, started to pilfer the private bank accounts of Public Officials, alarms went off in the now-closed State Department.
POTUS 47 was named Ronald Poker, a businessman from New York. He had specialized in building Casino Resorts in foreign countries before entering Politics. The Province of Abu Emirati, an Oil-Rich sliver of the Arabian Coast, invested a Trillion Dollars into the economy as a favor. POTUS 47 accepted it.
Valen Rusk, stood five-feet-eleven in a sporty jumpsuit with a now defunct Coat of Arms, usurped from one of Poker’s Casinos, emblazoned on his suit. He walked briskly by the empty halls of Congress, admiring not the merited bronzes of Past Presidents or the oil paintings of Washington and Reagan, but the newly-installed, laser-etched portraits of himself being fitted over State-issued proclamations. The decadent halls of the Senate were covered in a tarp with this burgundy carpet leading down the center to the Senate Chair, replaced with a gilded throne of sorts, complete with an emerald-encrusted scepter resting on a silk pillow. Rows of Titanium Suits of Armor in the guise of Bots aligned the sides of the royal carpet. POTUS 47 had allowed Congress and the Senate to “take an extended vacation” for four months.
Rusk’s Crypto-Currency was the GEO, the Global Economic Order, valued in Silver initially. Through Media Hype the value climbed to staggering amounts of National Currency before he sold his shares, then it crashed back to the Silver value in a week. There was no Tax system in place on Crypto-Currency Investments. So he kept the $500Billion it generated. It was civil corruption made simple.
Then the Tariffs happened. POTUS 47 issued Tariffs as blackmail against ally and enemy alike. He wanted to see the reaction and plan accordingly. Allies wanted better trade relations until the tariffs, or favors, but once the tariffs hit their shores they caved and withdrew the requests. Enemies applied tariffs of their own, targeting critical trade agreements and Peace Treaties with the USA. Some allies had border disputes with the USA. The tariffs changed those into civil unrest and mass protests in each major city. So the President saw the unrest on television and showed mercy by rescinding the tariffs.
Valen Rusk funded his private Space program NEBULA with the GEO Crypto-currency money, regardless that the GEO was initially funded by taxes. He developed a new stratagem for space travel, in the form of a gravity-propelled, winged Sphere shaped vessel. It used no fueled exhaust, just rotating shards of magnetic alloy, using the Earth’s gravity as a form of propulsion technology. Inside was a Bio-sphere with grown plants and trees, sun lamps, sprinklers, storage rooms, with housing, exercise rooms, entertainment, and a cargo room with airlocks. The Sphere could travel to Mars and back within 4 years.
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Chapter 7: Heather
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The next morning I awoke to a phone call on my answering machine. It was from CIA. They said I was now declassified from Official Records, and gave me an address to meet someone to discuss this further.
I was only classified because I write future events that no one else can explain. I was not in legal trouble, unless one counts breaking the Laws of Physics.
After breakfast I took a stroll outside and to the local shopping mall. This was about a mile away from home. I was instructed to meet a blond woman wearing a red silk top and stiletto pumps near a computer gaming store. Her name was Heather.
I arrived in ten minutes. There were two females actually, both wearing the same outfit but the second one was in midnight black and Asian.
I asked the Asian chick first. “Excuse me, are you Heather?”
The Asian female smiled and lured me outside to the metallic dumpsters.
I followed the woman. She stopped near a metallic storage bin and removed her pumps. I asked her name again. She turned slightly. Then she spun her free leg in my direction and knocked my glasses off my face. As I tried looking for my eyeglasses, the woman faced me and jump-kicked me in a forward stance, knocking me down and then landed her foot against my neck. As I tried to speak, she placed her foot against my mouth, silencing me.
“No,” she said quietly. “I am Chinese Intelligence Agent. Who is this Heather?”
I turned my gaze to my left and noticed a blond woman running towards the Asian female. The blond woman jump-kicked in the air and knocked the Asian chick off of me. They fought for about two minutes, exchanging blows and kicks. I gathered myself together and reached for a rock on the pavement, and then I threw it in the Asian girl’s direction. She ducked out of the way, but collided into the metallic bin when the blond woman kicked her into it. Then she shut the bin door onto the Asian woman.
“Michael? I am Heather,” she said panting. “Can we go someplace safer?”
I followed Heather to a clearing, lined with trees, white metallic tables with chairs, and an occasional gray dumpster.
Heather mentioned that she is CIA and that the Chinese Intelligence Service was monitoring my communications since I was sending unencrypted messages to POTUS 47. The President was in a trade war with China via his tariff blackmail scheme.
“May we walk a bit? I don’t like Foreign Intelligence keeping eyes on us when we’re stationary.” Heather walked towards the trees.
“So, how long have you been with the Agency?” I asked her.
“Oh, not long. My mother knew you when you were Jack, POTUS 35. Things were darker then, better than now,” she added.
I looked over Heather’s visage. She was four inches shorter than me. “So how many Bots serve President Poker, now?” I asked her.
“Oh, they’re almost everyone. The only human ones are secretarial and a few Secret Service Agents. CIA does employ Bots. I am not a Bot, but, if you want I can show you the difference between Bots and a real woman,” She chided.
We walked up to a building and she stopped near a wall, pecking a kiss on my neck. I engaged a few kisses with her. She held my back against the wall, lifting her thigh up to my waist and rubbing it gently.
“Stop right there!” an unknown woman yelled to us from behind me. “It’s CIA, halt!”
Heather turned around and then back to me. She grasped my head with both hands and kissed me on the lips. Then a sharp piercing sound erupted on her forehead. Her eyes stopped moving. She fell backwards, her head opening up at the exit wound of a firearm, with bits of computer parts falling out from it. Then she crumpled into the pavement. She was actually a Bot.
The woman who fired the bullet approached me. Before I said anything she put her fingers to her mouth for expressing Silence. She motioned towards a door and opened it. We entered.
She slammed the door shut.
“I am Special Agent Heather, CIA. I am the real Heather, okay?” she introduced.
“Who was that?” I asked her.
“Advanced Chinese Intelligence Bot, New Edition, Type X,” she said. “China just made them this year. They know human emotions and have been programmed with mating rituals to gain information. Another minute and she would have stolen your DNA.”
ISBN: 9798310272224
Imprint: Independently published
$10 USD. Feb. 11, 2025.
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