All the King's Men Read online

  All the King's Men

  By Alex Powell

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Alex Powell

  ISBN 9781646561865

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  To all those who seek the truth, no matter how dangerous.

  * * * *

  All the King's Men

  By Alex Powell

  Chapter 1: In the King’s Domain

  Chapter 2: A Crown for a King

  Chapter 3: Battlemaiden

  Chapter 4: Under the Rose

  Chapter 5: Home Is Where the Head Is

  Chapter 6: Angel of the Revolution

  Chapter 7: The Sands of Egypt

  Chapter 8: Burning Bridges

  Chapter 9: Between Memories

  Chapter 10: Recovering King

  Chapter 11: IRL

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1: In the King’s Domain

  Some said that traversing the Cerebrum looked different to everyone, and that made sense to Fox. Every individual who linked in to the mindnet thought differently. To him, it looked blue, with bright points of light and wispy interconnecting trails of mist. Apparently, psychologists could tell what type of person you were by the way you described it, but Fox couldn’t think of how his psyche could be interpreted like that. Then again, he was literally looking at his own thought process, so maybe what they said was true.

  Travelling the Public domain took no time at all; he knew exactly where he was going. King’s domain changed location every time, but Fox had no trouble finding it, even among all the endless data stored here, and all the other private domains set up among them.

  Today’s password was “Excalibur.”

  The Cerebrum picked up on his thought and whisked him down a link immediately, not even waiting for him to voice the command. It took a lot of practice to jump down a link without vocalizing it, but to those who travelled here often enough, it was easy.

  Just one jump, and there it was: the domain was nestled in between an article on “King Arthur” and another on “medieval legends.” Obviously, the domain was locked. He would need the code to get in. He supposed he could try to break in—that would make King unhappy, but it would be a good security test.

  Maybe another day. He’d seen the news break this morning, and the Cerebrum had been pandemonium with so many people trying to get the story. The source hadn’t been revealed, but of course, he knew exactly who had dug up this one.

  From the outside, the private domain looked like any other business meeting, but Fox knew that underneath, the security would look like a Gordian knot. It had some of the best mindwallers in the world working on its upkeep. Not to mention this business was anything but ordinary—or legal.

  He asked for permission to join the link-in, and it asked Name?

  “John Johnson.”

  Entry granted.

  That wasn’t his real name any more than “Fox” was his real name. Of course, in the Cerebrum, no one went by their legal name, not anymore. Early on, there had been an international agreement that made it a law in all countries that everyone was supposed to use their real name and face when using the Cerebrum, but it hadn’t been that way in a long time.

  He entered, and took note of who was present. He usually arrived right on time, so he expected that one or two habitually late people would show up in five minutes or so.

  “Fox.” King raised a hand and gestured him to a seat. “Welcome.”

  Fox was amused to note that King’s domain was Arthurian-themed this week, complete with medieval castle and round table. He took a seat next to a blonde woman and grinned.

  “Nice work, Joanne,” he said, nudging her with an elbow to get her attention. “I saw the story break earlier today.”

  “I thought it was rather a nice piece of work myself.” Joanne turned and favoured him with a small but sincere smile. “It took forever to get through all the security guarding that one. What are you working on right now?”

  “Oh, nothing important, not like that.” Fox shrugged.

  “He’s going after military budgets,” King cut in. “Don’t let him fool you, he’s been after this one for months.”

  “Way to ruin my surprise.” Fox tossed back his head and laughed.

  “Not trying for modesty?” Joanne teased.

  “I tried modesty once. Didn’t really take.”

  “I could try reprogramming your head,” offered a voice as someone slid into the seat next to him. “While I’m at it, I could change your hair colour to something more sensible.”

  Fox hastily shook his head, and his bright red hair bounced up and down, defying gravity in a way that it wouldn’t have been able to In Real Life. “It goes with my name!” he protested.

  Simon rolled his eyes. “Your fake name.”

  “It’s fake hair.”

  Simon heaved a put-upon sigh, but didn’t say anything else on the matter.

  “That’s more government-style anyway.” Simon changed the subject. “Speaking of, that was neatly done, Joanne. Yet another terrible government policy revealed to the public domain.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you and Karl,” Joanne replied with a smile. “Who knew that Dream Dust would leave the mind susceptible enough that such a thing was possible? I wouldn’t have even thought of that without your experience to draw on—and Karl’s ingenuity.”

  Simon preened at the praise, and this time it was Fox who rolled his eyes. He thought that half the reason Simon helped in the cause at all was because he would be lauded as a hero whenever a story broke.

  Or, more accurately, “the Liberator” was lauded as a hero. Again.

  There was that one time, before this all started, when Simon had rescued hundreds of imprisoned minds in Colombia and discovered government use of the illegal drug, Dream Dust, that rendered a mind completely helpless to resistance from invasion from outside MindHacks. Fox supposed that he deserved some acknowledgement for that one, especially since he would never receive recognition IRL.

  None of them would, but that didn’t mean that their aliases weren’t well known.

  Fox sulked silently and fiddled with the buckle on his glove, but was drawn out of it a minute later with the arrival of Karl and Mrs. Parks. Fox had a hard time looking at them, for two completely different reasons. Karl never appeared as a human-like figure; instead, his features were nothing but a shapeless form of writhing grey mist. Fox found that trying to stare directly at Karl made his head hurt, so he’d stopped after the fifth time or so. Mrs. Parks always appeared in a whi
te, hooded cloak backlit by a blindingly bright light.

  “Good, we’re all here,” King said with a clap of his hands. “We can proceed with the meeting.”

  He never got even the slightest bit annoyed with their perpetual late starts. Simon would get himself worked into a huff and complain, but King never did.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Mrs. Parks said, as she did at every single meeting.

  Karl didn’t say a word, simply slid into the seat next to King.

  “You did a very good job, dear,” Mrs. Parks said to Joanne.

  Joanne leaned over the table to tell Mrs. Parks all about the story and Simon slumped as her attention was taken away from him. King and Karl talked quietly together and Fox waited for the meeting to really begin.

  That was the one bad thing about being a band of misfit revolutionaries: meetings were extremely casual and always started twenty minutes after the appointed time. Not to mention, no one ever stayed on topic. He listened for a second; Mrs. Parks had moved on from the story and was talking about knitting patterns.

  Fox wouldn’t mind normally. It wasn’t as if his job IRL took up too much of his time, and he had nowhere pressing to be that he would be late for if the meeting went too long. Except this always happened. King and Karl would have a mini pre-meeting without them, Mrs. Parks would talk to Joanne, and that left Fox to talk to Simon.

  Simon wasn’t a bad chap, really. It was just that he was always sulking because Joanne wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Apparently, his ego needed almost constant upkeep.

  “So…I like your touch with the…little cape thing,” Fox said, initiating conversation, because Simon never bothered to even try.

  He was talking about Simon’s projected appearance in the Cerebrum. Simon favoured an old-style formal military uniform with a mask that covered his eyes. This time, he also had on a little cape, with one edge thrown dramatically over one shoulder.

  Simon bristled, and his mouth thinned. “Well, I don’t suppose we could hope for better from you, with all your skin-tight leather and your meaningless buckles that serve no purpose!”

  “Hey, I was saying it was good!” Fox jerked backward. “No need to say mean things about my leather!”

  “I can tell, you are making fun of it!”

  “Simon, mate, I wasn’t trying to start a fight—”

  “Guys, break it up!” Joanne broke in. “Fox, apologize for the comment about the cape.”

  “I wasn’t making fun of it!”

  “Oh, just do it, dear,” Mrs. Parks urged. “Look at him, all in a huff.”

  “I’m sorry for your insecurity about your appearance. I’ll keep it in mind next time you add superfluous accessories to your outfit.”

  King stood from his seat, and everyone fell silent, even Simon, who looked as if he were winding up for a long-winded rant in Fox’s direction.

  “The meeting is starting now,” King said, ignoring the preceding argument. “We are hoping everyone has come prepared to present their current project.”

  Simon grumbled and shot a sharp glance at Fox, but settled back in his seat. It probably helped that Joanne was the first to present, seeing as her project had just concluded and she had yet to start a new assignment, as far as Fox knew.

  “I worked very closely with Simon on this one, because of his background in the effects of Dream Dust,” Joanne started, and her words seemed to perk him up somewhat.

  Fox already knew the story. He half-listened to her outline of the events and her own conclusion. It was one of the biggest news stories of the decade, finding out that one of the most powerful governments in the world was using Dream Dust as a method to keep their agents under control.

  Fox was avoiding looking at Karl again when he noticed it. At first, he thought it was just the after-effect of looking near Karl for too long, or that he was too tired from his last plane trip IRL. But the more he stared at it, the more the bricks in the closest stone wall blurred together.

  “King,” he said, pointing. “Is that supposed to be disintegrating like that?”

  It was more apparent now: the huge fireplace in the background wavered and melted into one blob of colour. This had never happened to Fox before, and he fought down the rising panic as the floor beneath his feet faded away in patches.

  “We must be discovered!” Joanne cried, jumping to her feet, eyes sweeping the room.

  “Impossible!” Karl proclaimed, doing the same. “Our security is double-encrypted! The Mindwall can’t be collapsing like this!”

  King tried to stand, but stumbled as if dizzy. “There’s something wrong,” he said, his voice sounding distorted. “I can’t…”

  Fox felt rooted to the spot, completely unsure of what he should do. He wasn’t part of the Mindwall; King and Karl had built it together, and he couldn’t weave in his mind now that it was in place. Not to mention, he didn’t know what was wrong to begin with.

  As he kept looking around, mind in a frenzy about what needed to be done to help, one of the walls burst, and a person tumbled into the room. The figure rolled to their feet and quickly glanced around, apparently assessing the situation.

  “MindHacks!” yelled Mrs. Parks.

  Four more came in after the first, and Fox finally leapt into action. If the agents managed to catch them and force them back into the public domain, they could track down where their physical bodies were located from the link-in site.

  Fox had to get to King. He still didn’t know what was happening, or how the agents had found them. But if he could get King into the public domain without being followed, at least the agents would no longer be invading his head. This one room was just the start of his domain. It was a meeting place, like the sitting room of one’s home, where it was fine to have guests. From here, the agents could delve deeper and deeper into King’s memories and disrupt their entire operation.

  They couldn’t get a hold of King’s mind, no matter what.

  The first agent through the break saw Fox as the closest target and headed his way, moving so fast that it looked as if he were teleporting.

  Fox turned into a fox.

  The agent clearly wasn’t expecting this and halted in confusion. Fox knew why the agent was so startled: one might be able to change appearance, but to change a form completely was a rare ability. It took a lot of mental concentration. He had to imagine he was a fox to such a degree that he could feel the change in his head.

  The agent, breaking out of his confusion, chased Fox around the rapidly dematerializing room. To Fox’s alarm, the agent pulled out a matched pair of pistols and fired several rounds at him.

  Weapons in the Cerebrum were also rare, especially a complex weapon like a pistol. Long wooden staffs were the most common, and even those were difficult to imagine completely enough to harm an opponent.

  Fox dashed under the Round Table, forcing the agent to crouch to find him. As he exited the other side, a different agent hurtled past and disappeared through the dissolving walls of King’s domain. Joanne was taking the opposite approach to Fox, fighting the agents rather than avoiding. She knew some form of martial art, and as the agent chasing Fox came around raising his pistols, she attacked him with a high kick to the head. He narrowly avoided the blow and whirled to face her.

  With the agent distracted, Fox searched the area for everyone else.

  The agents seemed to have the same problem with Karl as Fox did, because he was sitting undisturbed at the Round Table. With a short saber, Simon was fighting back two agents. The last agent had King in handcuffs, urging him toward a pair of double doors that had popped up in place of the hearth. King resisted him, but his weak struggles proved ineffective.

  Fox wasn’t much of a fighter, but something had to be done.

  He ran straight at the agent’s back and scrambled up his uniform, which consisted of stretchy, tight, black material. The agent released King in surprise that quickly turned to alarm as Fox jumped on his head and chomped down on his goggles.

/>   “King, get away!” Fox yelled.

  His mouth was full of material, but one didn’t need a mouth in the Cerebrum, not really. It made people more comfortable to have the impression of moving their mouths to talk, but it wasn’t necessary, as sound waves didn’t exist in cyberspace.

  A pair of gloved hands grabbed him around the middle.

  He turned back into a human form, and the agent abruptly collapsed under his imagined weight. It was purely psychological, because there was no weight or mass here. Fox scrambled up and over to where King stood motionless. The handcuffs had disintegrated from a lack of concentration on the agent’s part, but even unrestrained, King offered no resistance.

  “King, come on, we have to get out of here!”

  “He’s been Dusted,” Simon said, appearing at his side. “We’re can’t win this one!”

  No wonder Fox didn’t recognize what was happening in King’s head. He’d never been in the domain of a dusted mind before. The disconcerting disintegrating aspect made Fox’s head spin. He guessed Simon would know, after the whole thing in South America.

  “Does that mean they have his physical body?” Fox asked, the implications making his gut seize in sudden terror.

  What if the MindHacks had found the rest of them, too?

  “You don’t look Dust-drunk,” Simon replied.

  “Can we do anything?” Fox was nowhere near reassured, and a tight ball of panic lodged in his throat.

  Simon looked pale, reflecting his own body’s reaction to his fear. “No. The only thing we can do now is escape.”

  “We can take King into the public domain and hide.” Fox pulled at King’s arm, and King turned to him in a daze.

  “What then, rescue his body?” Simon cried incredulously.

  “It’s the only idea I have!” Fox shot back, something like hysteria entering his voice.

  “They can’t have my memories,” King whispered. “I know too many things for them to have them.”

  “King,” Fox pleaded, because although Joanne had cleared three of the agents, she was still fighting two of them.