He thought for a moment, then asked tentatively, ‘Tell me who List all Primary Operators for Artificial Intelligence Module Eighty-Six.” It was just a wild guess on his part.
“Only one Primary Operator. Name is Golden, James Levy. Identifiers are….”
That was it! Distant memory flooded back. Golden, the Army major who had tried to unzip him and Wrench during their first visit to Eighty-Five, had disappeared after his escape from the building. But apparently he had had enough time to do his work before their arrival. It could only have been he who had initiated Corn-link 86. At some later time he or one of his collaborators had used the new corn-link to give Eighty-Five the task of building a secret duplicate of itself, and he had done it in such a way that it had escaped detection for all of these years. Golden had been working, in effect, as a secret Primary Operator, operating only through his new corn-link, so that no one had ever suspected his presence.
It must have taken Eighty-Five a long time— decades — to carry out the task Golden had assigned it, with tiny machines burrowing through the rock and other tiny machines carrying bits and pieces of the new computer through long, dark tunnels. During that lime Golden had had to be very careful, insinuating his changes into Eighty-Five’s programs in such a way that other Primary Operators did not become suspicious. It obviously was from Golden that Eighty-Five had acquired the Mephistophelian persona which it had displayed today for the first time. But now with the new computer completed Golden could carry out any schemes he wished without having to be subtle.
Cold sweat broke ou t on Lessing ‘s brow. An involuntary shudder wracked his body. It also must have been Golden ‘s instructions that had sent the steel spider into his bed. Whatever scheme Golden had been so long in preparing clearly was ready to be hatched. Cautiously he said, “Identify all control-level programs which have been installed via Corn-link 86. Delete them. Erase them. Understand?”
“Understood. Implement?”
“Implement.”
The machine hummed. It said, “Implementing.“Then, “An alarm circuit has been triggered in Artificial Intelligence Module 86.”
Lessing said, “Cut off power to that installation.”
“Ineffective. The site possesses its own power supply.”
“Send extensors and eliminate that site and its contents. Seal off accessways and drill a tunnel up to Chesapeake Bay. Hood the site with sea water. Implement.”
“Implementing. Task completion time: seventeen hours and three minutes, plus or minus ten minutes.”
Lessing sat for a few minutes more, then groaned and got up. He hurt all over: arthritis and old age, combined with the excitement of defeating humanity’s most fearsome foe since the last sabertooth tiger died! Eighty-Five’s “Lessing” android did offer a certain amount of temptation!
Silence. The impersonal ceiling lights blazed down on a scene of motionless chaos. Come Monday morning Eighty-Five’s human crew would be in for a rude shock. Lessing decided to send a squad of Cadre troops over to stand guard until he could call everybody together and sort matters out. They undoubtedly would turn over to PHASE the task of hunting down Golden and his colleagues and of double-checking Eighty-Five to be sure that all of Golden’s programs had been deleted.
He left the chamber.
A very worried Max met him in the lobby and helped him out to the car.
It was too late to return to the White House to change clothes. He had Max call Liese on the limo’s vid-phone and tell her to meet him at the Herman Mulder Memorial Stadium.
Then he lay back and relaxed as best he could.
As they drew up, he could hear the massed choruses singing “Banners High!” — what older people still called the “Horst Wessel Song.” It didn’t sound as heroic in English as it did in German, but it did make an excellent anthem for the Aryan world. A chorus of “Sieg! Heil!” roared up to meet the wheeling gulls, then another, and another. Lessing’s subordinates were doing their job, pumping the crowd.
At last Lessing could let go. The Thousand Year Reich had gone off the track, derailed for a space of a hundred and forty-four years, but now it was back on and chugging along strong.
It looked as though this Reich would last awhile.
Hopefully forever.
Would you like to read other books in which the good guys win?
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The good guys win sometimes.
Not always, of course. They lost big in the Second World War. That war was a victory for communists, democrats, and Jews, but everyone else lost, including millions of GIs who were told that they were killing Germans and Japanese in order to make the world a decent place for their children to grow up — only to see things in America go from bad to much, much worse in the decades after the war.
Even when the bad guys win, they sometimes grow careless and later become losers. Look what happened to the communists of eastern Europe in the 1990s. Could the same thing happen to their erstwhile WWII allies in America?
Serpent’s Walk explores that possibility. It assumes that Hitler’s warrior elite — the SS — didn’t give up their struggle for a White world when they lost the Second World War. Instead their survivors went underground and adopted some of the tactics of their enemies: they began building their economic muscle and buying into the opinion-forming media. A century after the war they are ready to challenge the democrats and Jews for the hearts and minds of White Americans, who have begun to have their fill of government-enforced muti-culturalism and “equality.” The resulting conflict comes close to destroying the world, and it provides some exciting reading.
ISBN 0-937944-05-X
Copyright
NATIONAL VANGUARD BOOKS
ISBN 0-937944-05-X
Copyright © 1991 by National Vanguard Books
Cover by DB Graphics
All rights reserved. No part of this book, except brief excerpts for the purpose of review, may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Published by National Vanguard Books POB 330 • Hillsboro • WV 24946
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA