The Good Dr. Reed

He'd failed his family that one time, almost a decade past now. The ordeal of the kidnapping leaving Amelia but a flicker of the fiery red head he married well before he became the honored good doctor on the world stage. Only six at the time, his son Jason had since overcome the trauma of that abduction, excelling much as his father did during those same formative years before entering university, a math prodigy.

Yet for all the money and security resources at his disposal, it wasn't enough. What good was it now being voted most influential philanthropist of his generation by not only his peers in industry but all the major global media as well.

Could he ever do enough to thwart the Neo Luddites ? Or were all his efforts no better than a parlor magician's bag of tricks. That's what it all came to this morning, when he got word of four IEDs going off simultaneously at the Cal Tech biomechanics building he had funded and that bore his name engraved in granite - "Reed Hall". In those timeless breaths his heart dropped like a stone to the pit of his stomach and left him feeling as vulnerable as a shivering newborn. The thought of Jason, his only son, trapped under the rubble of mangled steel and blasted stone took him to a place he had done everything in his power to never again revisit.

The knock on his study door shook him out of the silent storm raging in his head, back to the firm wooden chair at his desk, all the surrounding plasma monitors dark. Whatever it was, especially a body bag, he couldn't stand to hear it in a NEWS broadcast, like just another cool occasion to titillate the masses always in need of distraction, amusement, always on the verge of boredom mingled worry.

"Come in."

Who else but Fitz and from his tight-lipped look, it wasn't good.

"I'm sorry Alan."

"Give me the worst of it, Fitz."

Reed stood up, walked around the desk to stand at arms length before his old friend and business partner.

"Both legs gone. That's the worst. Good news is no brain damage & spinal column 90% intact."

"Where is he now ?"

"I have him in route to Bethesda. Should arrive within the hour. What do you want to do from there ?"

"You tell Selene yet ?"

"No. Straight to you, Alan. What about Amelia ?"

"Thanks. No. I don't know how to tell her. You know her fragile state since the kidnapping..."

Reed turned to look out the frost crusted, spartan, bay windows. Peaceful, beautiful, a harvest moon in a white swirl that was still a light dusting. Forecast was it would start piling in heavy before sunrise, on the eve, making for the first white Christmas in half a dozen years.

"Have Sky Dancer ready to roll. She'll make it through the storm at its worst no problem. I'll get the prognosis at Bethesda first hand before I decide when to move him over to our Borg Unit at Synaptic Dynamic Research in Santa Fe."

"Good. I'll see to it."

Fitz got the door part way open before catching himself and closing it again, softly. He turned back to Alan, who had started pacing like a caged animal, the thick carpet absorbing his hard stride, not betraying an iota of his pent-up anger.

"Alan...we have that Camp David trip scheduled the end of the week. You know - the New Paradigm initiatives the President wants us to go over with his inner sanctum, Skull and Bones chums. You think you'll still make it with this situation in play ?"

"The New Paradigm", Reed thought to himself, "maybe it doesn't go far enough in dealing with those fanatical Luddites." These were misgivings he'd keep to himself for now, till he had a chance to sort it all out, then maybe he could share it with Fitz. But, maybe not.

Slowly nodding, he said:

"If you can handle it without me Fitz, I'd be grateful. I wanna stay focused on Jason's care. You understand ?"

"Sure. Of course. I'll just tell 'em the situation, they'll understand, then cover the ground we've rehearsed already. Piece of cake. Don't worry about it. Anyway I'll have 'em call you from the hangar when Sky Dancer is ready to fly."

"Thanks, old friend. Mind turning the light switch off on your way out ?"

Fitz nodded and left a darkened room in his wake.

Reed walked over to the window, stretched his arms to grasp the frame on either side.

Up here in the Catskill mountains the stars were always brighter, diamond hard, the constellations seeming somehow closer, as if you could reach 'em within a few hours travel and not a journey of many life-times.

He could make his son, Jason, whole again, stronger even. That was a certainty and it didn't trouble him as did those New Paradigm initiatives. They seemed too reactive now, too restrictive, too focused on chit after the fact.

Again he looked upon the stars for solace, unconsciously connecting the jeweled points of light that made-up the Huntress, the Bears and the Big Dipper. What he was witnessing had passed eons ago. What was it at this moment ? There was no way of knowing unless you could make the trip through a wormhole.

Yet something else was taking form in his head like connecting constellations except it was more like neural pathways, ganglia, axions & synapses.

What if, what if you could harvest enough COM data ?

These Luddites planned their acts, they communicated over time, layed the ground work, acted just a wee bit out of the norm and basically, unintentionally, left a trail of crumbs.

What if there were a global network of receptors & filters dedicated to looking for those patterns and when finding them, initiating a preemptive strike force ?

Of necessity, it would have to operate outside conventional law and order, even the Constitution. But this would surely be one of those rare exceptions, a case were most would agree the means justified the ends.

He would need access to the entire planet's COM LINKS. All of 'em, totally unrestricted. Outside civil law sure, but this was WAR and think of all the innocent lives saved, the mass destruction of critical infrastructure averted, it would be worth it. Yes, it would.

What was that saying ? The one 'bout getting stronger ? Ah, yes, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger.

He would have to think of a special name.

The phone played Moonlight Sonata.

"Speaker on. This is Reed."

"Dr. Reed, Sky Dancer is clear for take-off."

"I'll be over shortly."

A special name.

It would come to him. Things always came to him without having to toil through every step. He imagined it was the way The Bard wrote his sonnets.

Yes. Maybe this would be his real legacy in a world going to hell in a hand-basket and not those ever popular sexy domestic bots that made Synaptic Dynamics, Inc. the poster child for Wall Street investors, and him wealthier beyond anything he ever imagined at Cal Tech brainstorming with Fitz when they were just young egg heads.

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the ancient Roman coin. A gift from his father when he was Jason's age that he only set aside upon retiring to sleep. In time worn relief, the Roman god Janus of the two faces, of thresholds, of looking behind and looking ahead. He flipped it up, caught it, and without looking, clutched it, feeling the cut in his palm.

It was time.