King Trump – Opening Chapters

1

KING TRUMP’S INCREASINGLY UGLY TIMELINE

TRUMP’S RISE TO dominance was the victory of the one over the many; that is to say, of Trump himself over everybody else. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he thrust a rusty iron knife down the throat of everyone else who stood in his path on his way to gaining complete control of the planet. His relatively early timeline demonstrates this ugly truth:

June 14, 1946: Donald Trump is born.

June 16, 2015: Announcement of presidency bid.

November 8, 2016: Trump beats Hillary Clinton to take the White House and win his first presidential election.

January 20, 2017: 1st inauguration as president of the United States.

January 20, 2021: 2nd inauguration as president of the United States through the bullying use of state legislatures to decide the electors, despite losing the 2020 US election by 306 seats to 232 seats.

January 20, 2025: 3rd (and unprecedented) inauguration as president of the United States. Approved as a result of President Trump’s dubious interpretation of National Emergency powers.

July 11, 2027: DNA telomere regrowth system implant demanded by President Trump.

December 22, 2027: President Trump’s DNA telomere regrowth system implant announced as complete success promising immortality if deadly accidents can be avoided.

December 23, 2027: DNA telomere regrowth system announced by President Trump as unlawful, and the buildings of DNA Telomere Industries are completely razed to the ground. The senior staff and all scientists are rewarded with the death penalty and executed on dubious charges of treason.

January 6, 2028: Constitution of USA altered to institute incumbent President Trump as president until death, aided by the swing vote of Supreme Court judge Amy Coney Barrett.

January 13, 2028: Execution of all members of the Supreme Court on unproved charges of planning to assassinate President Trump.

January 14, 2028: Execution of President Trump’s family and relatives (close and distant) by order of President Trump (reasons not presented).

January 18, 2028: Execution of the entire United States House of Representatives and Senate. Replaced by military personnel handpicked by President Trump.

October 23, 2032: President Trump’s biological age has stabilized to an equivalency of a 25-year-old.

December 25, 2033: Donald Trump’s “Christmas Day” coronation as King Trump.

February 16, 2034: King Trump announces new Satellite Defence System and Anti-Intercontinental Defence Missile System.

February 20, 2034: King Trump declares war on the United Countries of Russia and the New Republic of China.

 

February 21, 2034: King Trump flattens the United Countries of Russia and the New Republic of China in a nuclear attack and announces that he is in complete control of the entire world.

March 7, 2034: King Trump abolishes all religions and renames planet Earth to planet Trump.

March 8, 2034: King Trump announces the timetable for the immediate execution of all peoples of non-white European origin.

January 29, 2036: King Trump announces the successful eradication of all peoples of non-white European origin.

And relatively more recently his increasingly ugly timeline boasts:

June 14, 2898: King Trump announces the launch of Starship Trump with its mission to explore the Centauri star system where radio signals from an intelligent civilization have been interpreted for the last 747 years.

Why would such a technologically advanced accomplishment and aspirational mission be described as “increasingly ugly”? Because of who Trump was. If he eradicated much of his own species for simply having different physical attributes and beliefs to himself, what would he be planning to do to an alien race? It seemed planet Trump was not the only planet that Trump demanded complete control and ownership of.

 

 

2

THE MUSEUM PIECE

July 22, 2900 Interstellar Space

JAKE AND MIKE headed through the myriad of corridors of Starship Trump’s Top Deck …

“Did you know that all the internal walls, ceilings and floors are made of hardened graphene?” said Jake to Mike, while flipping a long loose strand of his blond hair from his eyes with a sharp flick of his head.

“Who told you that?” answered Mike with a question of his own. Mike’s hair, unlike Jake’s, was short and jet-black. Of course, their skin was very similar and very white. And that is the only skin colour they had any knowledge of. Only one human in existence knew that humans once had different shades of colour as different as Jake and Mike’s hair colours. This human’s name was King Trump, and apparently he was back on planet Trump enjoying a trip on board his luxury ocean liner.

“Learned it this morning in Chemistry,” boasted Jake.

“But the walls, at least, look like wood panelling.”

“Yes, they do. But honestly, they are definitely made of graphene. The wooden appearance is achieved through a materials vibration technique.”

“Next you’ll be telling me these carpets are made of plasticised floss.” Mike scuffed the carpet beneath his feet with his right foot without interrupting his leisurely pace.

“I dunno, Mike. Nevertheless, I’ll bet it’s some sort of synthetic plasticised material.”

“Mmmm,” murmured Jake taking in some deep sniffs. “Smell that food?” The pleasant aroma of the delights of the teatime dinners of the Top Deck Café wafting down the corridors consumed the visiting pair in their leisurely progress.

“Smells delicious,” replied Mike, taking in a few deep sniffs of his own. “Definitely some sort of pizzas are going down in the Top Deck Café. Come on, let’s get a mouthful or two.”

“After we visit the Museum. After all, that’s why we ventured up to Top Deck.” Jake had a determined look on his face.

“Uh, well okay. But the smell of that food has made me mighty hungry. Anyway, what’s so special in the Museum that you want to show me?”

“You’ll see,” said Jake tantalisingly. “Come on, let’s step on it!”

The two young men quickened their stride and soon found themselves in the Museum.

“It’s over here,” said Jake, leading Mike to a small waist-high display desk.

“What so special about these things?” asked Mike, peering down at a plasticised see-through museum cabinet that was sunken into the display desk. “Just a few items of weird clothing and some sort of note pad device.”

“Look at the display-desk label!” Jake pointed at the label, which read:

Research Journalist’s work clothes, wallet and work-pad. Chemically dated to the year 2061.

 

“Wow!” exclaimed Mike. “That’s pretty old. But I’ve heard of a soccer ball—some sort of sporting memorabilia—that’s dated back to 2048. That’s the oldest known relic, isn’t it?”

A familiar young woman’s voice begged to differ. “Nope. The oldest relic is the Antarctica mug. And that’s dated at 2001.”

Vicky Jones pushed herself between Jake and Mike and peered down at the contents of the desk display’s museum cabinet.

“Vicky, who are you with?” asked Mike, looking around the Museum for signs of a chaperone officer.

“Nobody. I came on my own. I’ve got probably the same interest as Jake in this display. I’m in the same Civics class as him. We were taught about the contents of the Museum this morning.”

Jake gasped at Vicky’s forwardness. “Women can’t just go on walkies completely independently of a senior chaperone officer.

“Yet here I am.”

“You best stay tight to us now,” said Jake. “Maybe starship crew will think Mike and I have a Permissions Trip Pass to take you to the Museum.”

“I don’t need you two laggards to vouch for me. I’ll take my chances and I’ll take any unfair punishments.”

“But, Vicky,” said Mike, “how can you say any punishments would be unfair? The law is the law, is it not?”

“The law itself is unfair,” said Vicky crossly. “It’s man-made. How would you like it if laws were woman-made and you were treated as an inferior member of the human race?”

“Do you really believe a woman is the equal of a man?” asked Mike in mild incredulity.

“Quite the reverse.”

“Then what are you talking about?” asked Mike. “You’re making no sense. If I might be allowed to say, you’re acting like a typical female.”

“A typical male remark. You fail to reach the conclusions of my words.” Vicky looked up from the display and looked Mike squarely in the eye. “I don’t believe we are equal because I believe women are superior to men.”

“You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Jake.

“It is a matter of fact.” Vicky gave a slightly smug smile. “My hacking group managed to get access to the entire educational records of the crew. Female intelligence and decision making skills test results are higher than their male counterparts. Not by much, but nevertheless, higher with a high degree of statistical confidence.”

Jake and Mike said nothing.

“Well, anyway, what’s the score on this relic?” asked Mike, breaking the awkward silence.

“We were told in the lecture that the journalists in those days reported on world and local events completely independently of the rule of King Trump,” replied Vicky.

“Those days seemed to have had no responsibility,” said Mike. “How could a society function without chaos under those conditions?”

“The point is that it must have,” said Vicky. “And why aren’t we taught more about those times. There must be records in the government digital history banks.”

“And that’s,” put in Jake, looking at Mike, “why I think this Museum relic is of such interest, see? I’m sure Vicky understands more than most, particularly given her superior knowledge of technology.”

“Condescending or what?” said Vicky, smirking cheekily at Jake’s last facetious remark.

“Huh? I still don’t get it!” Mike’s face was a picture of befuddlement.

“Explain it to him,” instructed Jake, smiling encouragingly at Vicky.

“It’s like this. See that technological device as it lies there tantalisingly mere inches from our grasp? So near yet so far! That device, being the main recording device of the long departed journalist, might have all the information of the society at the time. It might even contain information on the beginning of King Trump’s reign. Haven’t you ever wondered why we are told so little of King Trump’s early life and the way society worked at the time? He obviously knows this history as it is his history and he lived it.”

“Should we be questioning the will of King Trump?” asked Mike, his eyes betraying a slight tinge of anger. “He has ruled with deep wisdom and great kindness.”

“I question that,” said Vicky. “Wisdom? It seems to me his Implementers create the wisdom from his unwise proclamations. And kindness? Yeah, provided you do as he tells you … follow his rules … obey the law.”

“But the law seems reasonable to me most of the time,” said Mike. “And when it hurts certain groups, the overall effect is that it benefits the whole.”

“And you don’t think perhaps hurting certain groups can be avoided in providing overall fairness and wealth?”

“What significant groups have really been hurt?”

“How about fifty percent of the human race!” Vicky gave Mike a hard cold stare.

“Do you females really feel King Trump is unfair on you?” asked Mike.

“Yes I do. And because it’s not wise to show dissent to King Trump, therein lies the reason for half of humanity’s silence on the matter.”

“Getting back to the real matter,” said Mike, “does anyone here honestly think that the device’s data will still be readable?” He looked down at the ancient work-pad unconvinced.

“It could be,” said Jake. “The display keeps the relics in a vacuum and prevents any electromagnetic interference. Museum technology has worked that way since 2050. So if the device was working when it was first placed in a museum vault, which is likely, then its data will not be corrupted. Of course, the memory data could have been removed before it was stored, or during any relic relocation. But hopefully not.”

“I would think any authorities would believe once the device had been stored it would be safe,” said Vicky. “Who has ever heard of a museum theft?”

“Great,” said Mike, shrugging his shoulders. “We came. We saw. We discussed. Now can we get to the Top Deck Café? I’m starving.”

Just then a trio of security crew rushed into the Museum and charged towards Jake, Mike and Vicky.

“Vicky Jones!” roared the Chief Security Officer as his other two deputy officers handled Vicky roughly and handcuffed her arms behind her back. “You will get a strike on your record for this misdemeanour. It’s a night in the Brig for you.” The Chief Security Officer then turned to Jake and Mike. “Did you boys have anything to do with Vicky Jones’s unlawful excursion?”

“They had nothing to do with my movements. I’m completely independent. I do what I think is fair.”

The Chief Security Officer turned angrily towards Vicky and violently slapped her across her face cutting her lip. “SILENCE! Do not speak unless you are asked to do so!”

Vicky stood silent, blood dripping from her lower lip. Her eyes burning with a deep sense of injustice.

Jake and Mike looked on angrily at the harsh treatment dealt out by the Chief Security Officer, but they held their tongues.

The Chief Security Officer gave Jake and Mike a dark lingering look before ordering his deputies to frogmarch Vicky out of the Museum.

“Phew!” exclaimed Mike, running his hand through his jet-black hair “That was intense. But rules are rules.”

“You think that’s any way to treat a person—even a young woman?”

“No, but …”

“But what?”

“But nothing. You’re right. That’s not right.” Mike nodded his head slowly.

“Well, I’m going to do something about it. Something for Vicky.” Jake’s eyes narrowed with a steely determination.

“What can you do?”

“Borrow that relic,” said Jake, looking down intently at the ancient journalist’s work-pad.

“Steal it, you mean.”

“No. Borrow it. I’ll get the data out of it and return it, and no one will be any the wiser.”

“You’ll never get the data out of that ancient device. It will be completely incompatible with modern technology.”

“Vicky will hopefully sort out that particular problem.”

“But even if she could somehow extract the data, how can you get it out of its museum cabinet to begin with?”

“First things first. Let’s get to the Top Deck Café and I’ll explain how over a pizza.”

 

3

THE BRILLIANT VICKY JONES

JAKE AND MIKE headed towards the Museum for the second time that evening. Jake was pushing a simple sack trolley laden with a huge box labelled “Children’s Toys”. Mike was walking beside him trying his best to look inconspicuous.

“Do you really think this will work?” asked Mike.

“It won’t if you keep acting like you’re about to assassinate Captain Branson. Just relax. Remember, no one is expecting anything like this. Nothing’s ever been stolen before on this starship. I mean what would be the point? And in any case, we’re only borrowing an item, not stealing anything.”

Jake and Mike entered the Museum.

“Empty,” said Mike.

“Well, it’s just ten minutes to closing time. Let’s get on with it. You keep a check on the corridor.”

Jake wheeled the sack trolley to the small waist-high display desk that contained the museum cabinet, that itself contained the journalist’s ancient work-pad. He looked back towards Mike who was looking through the glass panels of the Museum’s entrance door. Mike turned his head towards Jake.

“Clear!” said Mike in a forced undertone.

Jake lifted the Children’s Toys box off the sack trolley and placed it by the desk display. He quickly opened the top of the box and pulled out a maintenance sheet, a type commonly used to cover machines that were being repaired or updated. Leaving the maintenance sheet dangling over the edge of a now open and empty large Children’s Toys box, he grasped the handles of the museum cabinet containing the sought after relics. It was heavy but he managed to carefully lift it out of its desk holder and place it on the Museum floor beside the large Children’s Toys box. He then lifted a sealed empty museum-cabinet-sized box out of the Children’s Toys box and placed it in the empty museum desk cabinet holder. Then he placed his maintenance sheet over the desk display. Finally, he placed the valuable museum cabinet into the Children’s Toys box, closed it up and slid it onto the sack trolley.

“All done,” he cried out to Mike. “Is the corridor still clear?”

“Hold tight a minute. There are a couple of medical officers approaching.”

Jake quickly wheeled the sack trolley to a position up against the Museum wall just to the right of the door, so that he and his trolley would be out of sight from any passers-by glancing through the glass panels of the Museum’s entrance door.

Mike ducked beneath the glass panels …

The sound of laughter approached and receded.

“All clear,” said Mike, after straightening up and peeping through the glass panels a few seconds later. He then held the door open for Jake to push the sack trolley through.

“Okay, Mike, you wheel the booty down to our quarters and I’ll stay here to make sure the Museum closes without any suspicions.”

Mike disappeared down the corridor while Jake wandered around the Museum, casually perusing the displays …

Moments later, an announcement sounded over the Museum tannoy system:

Please can you prepare to leave the Museum? We are closing in five minutes!

Jake waited the full five minutes then left as a quietly sounding alarm began throbbing through the Museum to a constantly repeating message:

Please leave the Museum … Please leave the Museum …

The moment he exited the Museum, the door made an audible click and the alarm and messages faded away as the lights dimmed into blackness. Jake tried the door and found it to be locked.

Hmm … the Museum must have some method of automatically sensing when it’s empty, he thought. Perhaps a simple entrance and exit counter …

Jake shrugged his shoulders then set off to the Brig to see when Vicky would be released. He knew she would not be kept in overnight as the Chief Security Officer had threatened, because the Educational Department would not be happy.

Before Jake got to the Brig section, he spied the form of Vicky Jones approaching him from the distance.

“Did you get any more grief from those bastards?” asked Jake.

“Oh yeah. But thankfully it was only an insulting dressing down. It had no effect on me. Just a bunch of stupid men. I quite pity them really. Imagine being that pathetic.”

“Do you hold all males in such high regard?” asked Jake with a playful sense of irony.

“Nope. You’re okay, Jake. But sorry to say your friend Mike needs a lot of work.”

“He’s okay really. You crack that work-pad’s data and you’ll see him come around to a more sensible and liberated form of thinking.”

“Fat chance of that happening. I’ll never get my hands on that work-pad. Stealing’s not my thing.”

“Borrowing’s mine!” said Jake with a mischievous grin.

Vicky’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows arched. “You’ve got the work-pad?” She was breathless in anticipation of Jake’s answer.

“Yep. Got it for the night. Simply borrowed the museum cabinet, replaced it with a similar sized box, and placed a maintenance sheet over the emptied display desk. Mike then wheeled a sack trolley loaded with the museum cabinet hidden in a large box down to our quarters minutes before the Museum closed. Meanwhile, I stayed and was last to leave the Museum. So as long as we get the cabinet back before the Museum opens tomorrow morning, then we are all made up.”

“What are we waiting for, Jake? Let’s get on the case!”

Together, Jake and Vicky hurried to Jake and Mike’s quarters.

En route Jake’s communicator buzzed. A short conversation took place and it was clear that Mike had arrived safely with the museum cabinet without a hitch.

“We’ll have to stop off at the Sports Centre,” warned Vicky.

“I get it. That’s where you girls keep your party time cartoon character suit disguises.” Jake smiled at Vicky. “And you don’t want to be noticed by any security surveillance on account of your recent misdemeanour.”

“You’ve nailed it in one.” Vicky nodded.

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Self-flattery gets you zero points, Jake Bennet.”

“Fair enough. I was obviously joking.”

“Just so you know. Remember how earlier I had spoken about how my group of hackers had extracted the intelligence records of the crew? Well, it turns out your scores were equal highest with one other member of the crew.”

Jake was taken aback by this revelation. He never thought of himself as highly intelligent, just reasonably intelligent.

“How many people know this fact, assuming you are being truthful?”

“Just my hacking group. And they keep personal information secret,”

“You haven’t though, as you’ve just told me.”

“But you and Mike will be working with us now. So you two are in the loop.”

“Well, who’s the other person sharing my high score? Is it Captain Branson?”

“Nope. He’s a man. The chances of two males sharing the high score would be rather unlikely given the entire set of results.”

“Ah, I see. Then it must be Professor Sally Morten. She’s a genius.”

“Use your brain, Jake. Do you think I would have mentioned your score if the person who’s your equal wasn’t me?”

“Bloody Hell! You and me, top dogs? What more can I say?”

“Just remember all the high officials will be aware of our scores and they’ll be especially wary of you, Jake, as you’re likely to ascend to a high ranking position after you graduate. So make sure you play the loyalty and submissive card.”

“That’s rich coming from you!”

“Yeah, well I burned my bridges long ago. So playing such cards would only make me appear more suspicious.”

“True. Do you have any more bad news coming out of your hacking group’s findings?”

“Now that you come to mention it, I do.”

“And that bad news is …”

“Your intelligence scores were equal highest with mine, but on the decision making skills scores you are ranked at 209th. That’s still incredibly high given the crew’s complement of 21,674 personnel. It puts you just inside the top one percent.”

“I can take that. I mean decision-making skills improve with age, don’t they? I might get in the top ten by the time we reach the Centauri system.”

“You might find it more difficult to accept your decision-making skills rank when you find out who topped the rank.”

“Well, at least I know it can’t be you. What sort of decision was it to get yourself face slapped by the Chief Security Officer?”

Vicky laughed mockingly at Jake. She drew out a piece of neatly folded paper and handed it to Jake. It read:

Jake, I see you setting off with Mike with a look of intense enthusiasm on your face. Well, I’ll lay an odds-on bet that you are heading for the Museum. You’re obviously interested in the ancient work-pad we heard about at this morning’s lecture. If my words look a bit wobbly it’s because I’m writing this now as I follow you just minutes behind. I’m writing it now because I believe I will be needing it to prove something unexpected to you later today. I can’t steal the cabinet, Jake, because it would be better if you did. So I’m going to follow you while making sure the security officers will notice my independent excursion of the starship. I will then meet up with you in the Museum and get myself arrested in your presence. I will make sure I get myself physically reprimanded so that you will be inspired to steal the cabinet in response to my mistreatment. Of course, I’m sure you might be planning to commit such an act in any case. But this way, you’ll get the complete backing of Mike. What do you think of my decision making skills now, Jake?

“Good grief!” exclaimed Jake on finishing the letter. “That’s incredible. I’m blown away. It’s obviously you with the highest score in decision making. Am I right?”

“You’re not wrong.”

Jake could not stop himself laughing with incredulity at the extraordinary feat and talent of Vicky Jones. Eventually he gathered his senses.

“You must be a marked woman by every position of authority. They must be terrified of you. I know I am. Here, have your note back.” Jake passed the note back to Vicky. She folded it up and slipped it into her top tunic side pocket. Jake added, “I’ll leave all the tough decisions up to you from now on.”

“There will always be decisions in some situations that you can make that will be better than mine. So whatever you do, don’t skip your responsibility to make tough decisions. I could also be compromised without your knowledge.”

“I think I could spot if you had been compromised.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of the authorities.”

“Which authorities?”

“ALL OF THEM! Now, come on, let’s get a move on!”

It was twenty minutes later that Jake and Vicky entered Jake and Mike’s quarters. Which one of you is which?” questioned Mike staring at two comical-looking cartoon character suit disguises. As Mike and Vicky were both six feet tall, and their cartoon character suit disguises hid their physiques, it was impossible to tell who was who.

“Well, I’m the cartoon doggy!” announced Jake, taking off the hardened but flexible foam head of an extremely silly-looking dog.

“And I’m the alien clown!” announced Vicky, taking off the head of an extremely odd-looking alien clown.

Jake and Vicky quickly clambered out of their costumes.

“Is Susan here yet?” asked Vicky.

“Yeah,” replied Mike. “And she’s already managed to open the cabinet. She’s waiting on you two before going any further.”

“Did she show you the crew’s intelligence and decision making skills scores?” asked Jake.

“Yep. Impressive, I must say. I can’t believe Vicky has topped the decision making scores. I mean she got her face slapped by security. How can that have been a wise decision?”

“It’s a long story, Mike,” said Jake. “But believe me, it was an incredibly intelligent decision. I take it Susan and the opened cabinet are in the kitchen?”

“Correct.”

“Let’s get to it then,” said Jake with a great degree of urgency.

Into the kitchen to join Susan flooded Jake, Mike and Vicky.

“Vicky carefully pulled the ancient work-pad out of the cabinet through its open side door.

“Interesting …” remarked Vicky. “I think we’re in luck!”

“How so?” asked Jake.

“Hand me a magnifying glass, please,” asked Vicky, looking at Susan and seemingly ignoring Jake. Susan obliged, passing Vicky a small but powerful magnifying glass from her tool bag.

“Yes,” said Vicky triumphantly. “The device has a familiar USB socket. In fact … yes, it’s got three of them.”

“But isn’t USB only used for musical instrument connection to computing devices?” asked Jake.

“It is on our modern devices,” said Vicky. “However on the work-pad, it seems to be a main connection method. There are some other sockets, but they are completely unrecognisable, and obviously became obsolete. Of course, if the work-pad had no recognisable sockets, we would still have been able to manipulate the work-pad for data download, but I think one of the USB sockets will save us a lot of fiddly hard work. I’m pretty sure it is through these multiple USB sockets that data can be transferred back and forth with data storage devices—given that there are three of them. And although a USB socket on our devices might be used as a music communications socket, there’s nothing to stop it accepting data flowing from the work-pad device. So let’s establish the power system of the ancient work-pad, fire it up and connect it to one of our devices, and see what data, if any, resides on it.”

And so the four of them worked as a team in the hope of extracting ancient data from a long ago world.

 

4

QUESTIONS ARISE

THE WORK-PAD was quickly connected to the correct voltage and amperage required for power up …

“Switching on!” said Susan. She was the technology hardware genius of Vicky’s hacking quartet. “Nothing so far. But this button on the work-pad itself looks like it might allow the power to operate the device. Pressing work-pad button now!”

Suddenly a few lights on the edges of the work-pad burst into life. Red, green and yellow. This produced oohs and gasps of excitement from the four people gathered around. It wasn’t the visuals that caused the commotion, but rather the understanding that the work-pad at least appeared to work to some degree, and that there was the hope that it would start up fully and begin to yield its secrets.

The work-pad screen displayed some large white-lettered words: Seven OS.

“That must be the work-pad’s operating system, O-S standing for operating system,” suggested Vicky.

The words faded and a few dozen icons placed in a neat grid took their place.

Susan tried to think one of the icons open … Nothing happened. She tried a few more … Nothing.

“I’m sure the icons are applications but I can’t thought-click any of them open,” said Susan.

“Hmm …” said Vicky deep in thought. “I guess they did not have thought technology in those days.”

“Try using direct touch like the way baby toys sometimes work,” suggested Jake.

Susan tapped an icon with her forefinger … To her surprise, an application opened up.

“Wow, how exciting!” exclaimed Mike. “It’s bloody working. Primitive, but working. There must be some data just for the application to have opened. What sort of application is it?”

Susan quickly realised how the menu bar worked and pressed a sub-menu tab labelled Keyboard. An input keyboard appeared at the foot of the work-pad and Susan tapped on the letters. She typed the sentence: “This application is a word processor!”

“Cool,” remarked Mike. “I can’t imagine creating a textual document a letter at a time by physical touch.”

Vicky said urgently, “Susan, we need to simply download the contents of the work-pad onto one of our computer-pads. Then we’ll access everything with our own AI applications and our computer-pad’s thought interfaces.”

Susan closed the word processor. She then noticed an icon representing a stand-up cabinet. She tapped on the icon and realised the application that opened was a file system for the work-pad.

“Here we are,” said Susan. “It’s the work-pad’s file system. It appears there is 13.78 petabytes of data space. That’s 13,780 terabytes. There are 3.22 petabytes of used data space. That’s how much we have to map onto our device.”

“Is that all!” said Mike.

“In those days maybe that was a lot of data,” said Vicky. “We are only after information. Knowledge. That’s plenty of data for what we’re really after.”

Susan attached a music USB cable between the ancient work-pad and her computer-pad. “The cable fits perfectly. And, Vicky, can you get the data to transfer using a music application?”

Vicky moved closer to Susan’s computer-pad and waited a few seconds for her thoughts to interface with the computer-pad’s operating system, as Susan had allowed public access to her computer-pad. Then she thought-opened a Digital Audio Workstation application and thought-wrote some Audio Application Language code that would consider the used data space on the work-pad as musical sample information. The data would be copied into a single directory labelled Work-pad.

“Well, the good news is,” said Vicky, “the data is being transferred successfully.

“And the bad news?” asked Jake.

“The transfer speed is limited by the relatively super slow technology of the work-pad. It’s going to take just under eight hours.”

“Well, luckily it’s approaching our bedtime,” said Jake. “Let’s sleep on it. We’ll bring in Paul Naylor and James Smith on board in the morning. They can return the cabinet to the Museum. That way we can maximise our chances of keeping our activities a secret. The truth we might find might be more than interesting—it might be dangerous.”

“That’s a good balance,” agreed Vicky. “You four guys and our four-girl hacking group. A quartet of young women and a quartet of young men. Perhaps we can start this amalgamation with a bit of mutual respect.”

“That started earlier today,” said Jake. “There’s something that doesn’t quite add up about our world. I can sense it, and I’ll bet all you girls can too. Let’s hope that maybe the data from the work-pad will help to enlighten us.”

“Well, whatever we find, it’ll be something incredible. Maybe King Trump won’t have existed back in that time—even though he claims to have been born in 1946. And even if he was around since 1946, given that he has immortality through some apparent genetic fluke, he might not have risen to power until well after his birth. There’s no record of when he became king.”

“Yeah,” said Mike. “And maybe we’ll find a list of planetary kings before him. I find it strange that King Trump gives us no knowledge of history before his time. He must have been taught history when he was a boy.”

“Let’s sleep on it,” said Jake, letting out a long drawn out yawn.

“I best stay here,” said Vicky. “I’d rather not move the ancient device. I’d rather not tempt fate. It’s working smoothly and I don’t want anything to risk a breakdown. Do you have a spare visitor’s mattress?”

“We’ve got two,” interjected Mike. “So Susan can stay in the living room if she wants. She might be needed in case of a hardware problem.”

“I think we should take turns watching over the data transfer,” suggested Vicky. “Let’s do two hours watch each. Starting from 23:00 hours. I’ll go first, then Mike, then Jake, and finishing off with Susan as that’s the period when a hardware breakdown would be most likely to occur.”

“Agreed,” said Jake, and the others nodded their heads in agreement.

* * *

All the data transfer watches went well and near the end of Susan’s watch at 07:46 hours, the data transfer completed. It took her only three minutes to make four backups of this ancient data on micro-disks. During breakfast a micro-disk was given to each of the four present. Paul Naylor and James Smith were brought into the fold at the end of breakfast, as were Carol Hooper and Ellen Green. The new members of the eight-member group were ecstatic to find out about the borrowing of the museum piece work-pad, and the successful transfer of its data, once the property of a long dead independent journalist from a forgotten and unrecorded age.

“So get ready to roll, Paul and James,” said Jake. “The Museum opens in twenty minutes. We’ll all have to be patient a little longer. It’s important we examine the data together and keep in control of things. So providing the museum cabinet replacement goes smoothly, we’ll all meet at 16:00 hours after lectures, here. Mike and I will set up a larger table in the living room. That’s all folks.”

* * *

The Paul and James cabinet replacement went without a hitch as the Museum’s doors opened automatically at 09:00 hours. Paul had spent an hour loitering around the corridor to observe any personnel visits to the Museum. If anything was suspected of the theft he would have expected a serious visit, but there were none. So he had headed off back to his quarters to prepare for his 11:00 hours morning lecture. And now it was 16:00 hours, and true to his word, Jake with the help of Mike had set up a large composite table in their living room by combining their living room and kitchen tables and chairs together with the same tables and chairs from Paul and James’s living quarters.

Around the table sat the eight newly formed group members.

“So let’s allow ourselves a brief pat on the back for our early successes,” said Jake. “Everything has gone smoothly so far; however, let’s not get complacent. So, Mike, can you please give the corridors outside a brief inspection? I’m sure you can look inconspicuous by now!”

Mike quickly left his quarters and inspected the outside corridors for any possible unusual activity.

“Nothing,” he said rushing back to his chair a minute later.

“Okay, I’m locking the entrance door and blocking out the windows so we have complete privacy.”

Vicky then said, “All right then ladies and gentlemen, let’s make a start …”

In the next ten minutes, the group decided on a name and structure for their eight person team.

This was the outcome:

 

Name of Interest Group:

The Searchers

 

Members:

Ball, Mike

Green, Ellen

Hooper, Carol

Jones, Vicky

Naylor, Paul

Saunders, Jake

Smith, James

Wicks, Susan

 

Responsibilities:

Chief Decision Maker: Vicky Jones

Chairperson: Jake Saunders

Secretary: Paul Naylor

Treasurer: Ellen Green

Chief Records Officer: Carol Hooper

Chief of Science and Technology: Susan Wicks

Science and Technology Officer: James Smith

Minute Taking: Mike Ball

 

“Right, let’s get started,” said Vicky. “We’ve got a structure, but let’s keep things during the meeting as conversational as possible. Votes will be called for at points of obvious disagreement. The structure is just something to fall back on, though I would expect members to take their roles seriously.” Vicky looked over at Mike sternly.

“Don’t worry fellow Searchers, I’m taking down the minutes,” assured Mike, correctly guessing the reason for Vicky’s stare.

“We’ve done a lot of the business stuff,” continued Vicky. “Now let’s get to the payoff: the ancient data. Susan has set her computer-pad up to help us start to pick through the data. Over to you, Susan.”

“The view on my computer-pad will be displayed on the various monitor areas around the room for ease of viewing,” said Susan. “I’ve crafted some AI applications with the help of Vicky and Jake that will help reveal information in a way that will be maximally instructive and be relatively easy to follow. Let’s see what comes up …!”

The very first piece of information presented by the data was in the form of a video titled: “Planet Earth 2004”. There was no narration, just the natural sounds of the objects and animals in view, backed by some dramatic orchestrated music.

To say the video was a shock would be an understatement. It brought all the members to their feet. The colourful animals and differing landscapes were breathtaking. The view of the planet from space was spectacular. The video did not feature a single human being.

“This must be special effects,” murmured Mike. “Just look at that greenery. So many trees! And the view from space shows planet Trump almost entirely covered in healthy-looking continents. The seas are a consistent beautiful shade of deep-sea blue. The clouds are far too white to be possible, aren’t they? And why is the planet called Earth and not Trump?”

The video ended, and on a blank black screen, the following white-lettered words started to scroll slowly down the screen:

Everything you saw in the video was real. In 2004 the planet was known as Earth. It was a relatively clean planet with no significant areas of lethal radiation, except for a few isolated areas where nuclear fission power stations suffered accidents causing leakages. The video only showed a small proportion of animals. In fact, the number of species existing at the time was estimated as anything between 2 million and 50 million. But of the larger animals, say mammals, the number known was about 5,400.

Mr Donald John Trump born in 1946 (now: King Trump) was a business man aged 57 during this period.

Temperatures were on average ten degrees lower than they are currently and almost all the land masses of the planet were populated. The human population was around six billion.

The screen then remained black awaiting a continuation instruction from Susan. The last sentence caused an uproar.

“Human population of six billion!” shouted Mike. “Susan is this data reliable?”

Susan looked as shocked as everyone else, but managed to say in a subdued voice, “It’s fully reliable. The AI system that constructed that video and those facts, took cross-referenced information from before and ahead of that year. Six billion might seem a highly implausible number, but remember, the video showed there was much more land mass that was habitable in those days.”

“Planet Trump’s population is less than a billion today,” said Ellen. “I think all the radiated areas we were brought up to believe were developed by natural causes were never that. Something deadly and devastating must have happened.”

“Trump must know the reason if he was born in 1946,” said Carol.

“By the way,” said Jake, “did you notice King Trump was a simple Mr in 2004, a businessman? This means he was not born into royalty. I wonder who the king was then. And how did Mr Trump become the king? Fascinating!”

“At least we know his age is verified’” said Paul. “He really was born in 1946.”

“But why hasn’t King Trump allowed us to know about these times?” asked Mike.

“Maybe he had a hand in the planet’s deterioration,” suggested Jake. “Sacrilege to suggest such a thing, I know. But something’s seriously amiss here, and he’s the common denominator.”

“Well, I know it’s fun to speculate before the fact, but let’s plough ahead and get our questions answered,” said Susan, having recovered from the initial shock of the video. “Here we go …” Susan concentrated on the revelation application.

The next screen left the Searchers dumbfounded, and dizzy in a world of crazy discombobulation. They were left holding their heads with their eyes wide open in debilitating shock …